


Sometimes The Chosen One...

by fickle_fics



Category: Being Human (UK), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gore, Suicidal Thoughts, Urban Fantasy, Violence, Werewolves, grey white
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7688245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickle_fics/pseuds/fickle_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the Department of Domestic Defence facing closure Dominic Rook has to take drastic measures. Thankfully he has just the person in mind to do what must be done - Grey White, a werewolf sadly unlikely to do him any favours (or so he thinks), so he calls in the most manipulative man he knows - former spin doctor Malcolm Tucker to convince her to do what Rook wants, for the good of the country. Of course Rook hasn't counted on Malcolm and Grey getting on much better than he intended. Or on Grey knowing exactly what Rook will do for the good of the country. And accepting it. What should save the department should end her. <i>Should</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Is Also The Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> The completed version of The Blackbird, The Werewolf and The Spin Doctor that I started too long ago. Finished thanks to WIP bigbang on Livejournal.
> 
> A totally different universe to anything else Grey/Malc I've written, also she's a werewolf. This is also probably the closest I've ever come to writing original fiction so feedback's more than welcome.

To: Malcolm Tucker  
From: Dominic Rook

Dear Mr Tucker,

Whilst I’m sure you are less than happy to be hearing from me again I urge you to at least read what I have to say before you do anything rash.

As I am sure you are well aware things are not going terribly well budget wise with the new government. What you may be surprised to hear is that we at the Department for Domestic Defence are currently being dissolved. Now you are a smart man, I’m sure you know just how grave a situation this is without me having to spell it out for you. Quite honestly I require your help, your expertise in getting people to do what you want. While I am well aware that you no longer have any political influence (terrible business by the way, but at least you were acquitted) there is someone not connected to any of the parties whom I think may be able to help us, given the correct push.

I will be in London on the 5th to see the Home Secretary, to once again plead for the continued existence of a department that keeps the whole of Great Britain safe. If you’re still based there I would very much like to arrange a meeting to discuss this matter privately.

Please, Malcolm. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but you remember the good work we did when your old party was in power. Everyone’s safety depends on it.

Kindest regards

Dominic Rook 

Permanent Secretary of the DoDD

 

To: Dominic Rook  
From Malcolm Tucker 

Dear Mr Rook,

Fuck off, you massive fucking sociopathic come stain. 

Not my problem.

Worst regards

Malcolm Tucker.

To: Malcolm Tucker  
From: Dominic Rook

Dear Mr Tucker

With all due respect this is _everyone’s_ problem. If we’re dissolved the “people” we deal with will run amok. Just think about what that will mean for everyone. Type 2s fighting Type 3s in the street and the police won’t be able to do anything. Not even the army will be able to stop them.

They will take over if we let this happen. All I want you to do is talk to someone for me. I assure you you will be in no danger.

Kindest regards

Dominic Rook  
Permanent Secretary for DoDD

 

To: Dominic Rook  
From: Malcolm Tucker 

Rook,

Ask Pearson. 

Malcolm.

 

To: Malcolm Tucker  
From: Dominic Rook

Dear Mr Tucker

Sadly Mr Pearson is very much not the man for the job. Ignoring for a moment his loyalty to his party I do not believe his style will mesh well with the person I wish you to speak with.

A meeting. That’s all I ask.

Kindest regards

Dominic Rook  
Permanent Secretary for DoDD

To: Dominic Rook  
From: Malcolm Tucker 

8pm on the 4th. You can take me out for dinner, somewhere really fucking expensive. Call it a gesture of goodwill.

 

To: Malcolm Tucker  
From: Dominic Rook

Dear Mr Tucker

Very well. I will however need to speak to you in private afterwards. As I’m sure you appreciate I am unable to discuss department matters in public.

Kindest regards

Dominic Rook  
Permanent Secretary for DoDD

 

To: Dominic Rook  
From: Malcolm Tucker 

You trying to get me into your hotel room? I always did wonder about you.

 

Chapter 1

Malcolm sat in the only chair in the Travelodge hotel room Rook was staying in, the other man on the sofa, a file beside him.

“Have to say I’m a bit disappointed, thought you’d be staying somewhere a bit more impressive,” he said, looking around.

“Yes well, the department doesn’t really have the funds it once did. I had to cut corners to meet your demands.”

“My demands?” Malcolm scoffed, “You make me sound like a fucking terrorist, anyway as much as I enjoy your company can you just tell me what the fuck this is about so I can be on my way?”

Silently Rook reached for the file and handed it over.

“You want me to read the first draft of some terrible supernatural based romance? You could’ve just emailed it, you know?”

Rook’s face was still blank, not the slightest hint of amusement or even annoyance on his face. “Just open it, Mr Tucker.”

Eyeing him warily Malcolm did as he said. 

There was a photograph stapled to the very first page - a close up of a woman, young, pretty with short blonde, messy hair smiling while flipping the bird. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Think you might’ve given me the wrong folder, this looks like it might be for a dating agency.”

“She’s a monster,” Rook told him.

“Hey she might’ve overdone the eyeliner a bit, but monster’s a bit harsh. Emo’s have feelings too.”

“Don’t be taken in by appearances, Mr Tucker. Ms White there’s a type 3. Incredibly dangerous, even when it isn’t a full moon. May I?” he asked, reaching to take the folder off him, looking through it to find more illustrative photos. Folding down the corners he handed it back. “I suggest you look again.”

With a wary eye roll Malcolm looked at the photos. The first one showed the same woman, a longer shot, big black boots beneath tight black jeans kicking out wildly, but the most noticeable thing was her expression, she was positively snarling, that blonde hair half covering her face as she twisted violently in someone’s hold. 

Malcolm already liked her. She looked like the type of girl that’d do well in a Glasgow pub brawl.

“It took three men to bring her in.” Rook said.

Malcolm looked up from the photo to Rook, a disgusted sneer on his face. “Aye well I expect it’d take three fucking men to bring me in if I hadn’t done anything.”

“They must be contained, Mr Tucker, her kind are terribly dangerous during the full moon.”

“Her kind? Hot emo chicks, yeah I see your point.”

“She’s a type 3, Mr Tucker.”

“One day a fucking month. Jesus show me a woman that isn’t fucking lethal once a month!”

“Look at her,” he suggested, “the other page. Look at what she becomes.”

Malcolm sat up straighter. He hated this, being forced to acknowledge the existence of supernatural creatures. He really wasn’t cut out for this. He’d just wanted to make the country a better place. He’d had no idea exactly what it was the country was hiding when he’d joined the party. Slowly he turned the page, and there it was - the last picture. Her in a cage. Well presumably her. It was a creature, hairy and lean,with deep brown eyes that seemed somehow human, and sharp teeth and claws exposed as she threw herself at the bars,. He wanted to close his eyes against the image, but he wasn’t willing to let Rook see the effect it had on him. He wouldn’t show weakness in front of that little prick. Instead he looked to him, hatred barely hidden in his eyes.

“What’s this got to do with me?”

“She doesn’t get on well with our staff,” Rook admitted carefully.

“Well you’ve got her fucking caged, course she doesn’t.”

“Oh she’s no longer with us, sadly. There was an…incident.”

“What the fuck does that mean? You cunts killed her?”

Rook looked quite shocked at that suggestion, as if he hadn’t killed perfectly innocent people before. “Oh, no, no. That’s not what I meant at all. She’s no longer in our custody.”

Malcolm couldn’t help but smile. She’d got away. The angry little thing had got away from these bastards. Good for her. 

“There was a blackout, she escaped.”

Malcolm didn’t say anything for a moment, but he couldn’t quite help himself. “How many men did she take down that time?” he asked, amusement clear in both his tone and eyes.

“A number.”

“And again what the fuck has this got to do with me?” he said, managing to push down his approval for this woman.

“We need her on our side.”

Malcolm scoffed.

“We need you to _get_ her on our side.”

“I’m not even on your side, mate. Why the fuck are you asking me?”

Rook didn’t respond. Truth was Malcolm was the only person he had to turn to. It probably wouldn’t work but it was worth a shot, wasn’t it?

“We felt she’d respond well to you. Mr Tucker, you know how needed the department is. If they find out about what’s out there... You want what’s best for your country, don’t you? Just look at it that way. You’re keeping them safe in their ignorance.”

“So I just have to convince her helping you’s a good idea?”

“Exactly.”

“Where do I find her?”

“Take the file. It’s all there.” 

“Just one more thing,” he said, “you said in your email I wouldn’t be in any danger, but you’ve spent most of the time since I’ve been here telling me she’s a monster and she’s attacked your employees, so basically - why the fuck should I put myself at risk for you?”

“We don’t believe she’ll hurt you, since you’re not one of us.”

“You don’t _believe_ , oh well that makes it okay then, if you don’t fucking _believe_ she’ll hurt me. You’re really not very reassuring, you know?”

“Mr Tucker, you always had a certain reputation for doing what was needed for the good of the country. Surely you can see that this _needs_ to be done.”

“Aye, but why me?”

“Because quite simply - you’re the only person I could possibly ask.”

Malcolm sighed heavily, tucking the file beneath his arm. “Leave it with me, I’ll phone you tomorrow,” he said standing to leave the room..

 

Back at home Malcolm poured himself a whiskey as he settled down on the sofa to look through the file he’d been given. He’d taken up drinking properly when he’d left politics, it had seemed a good way to get through things without having to resort to seeing a counsellor or taking pills.. He’d never drunk when he’d been working, but as he reminded himself this wasn’t exactly work, and he was pretty certain he was going to need at least a couple to get through this.

The first few pages were incredibly dull - details about her next of kin and her statistics, as if her having an ankh tattoo on her hip was of any importance to anyone or any _thing_. Then there was an overly detailed background on her before she’d been turned. Good student all the way through to university where she’d studied media, a number of run ins with the law at protests, along with a few black and white photos from newspapers with her circled in the crowd with red pen. Then there were copies of police paperwork about how she’d spent a night in the cells and spent the whole time ragging about the injustice. She seemed a lot like she’d have been a mild annoyance in his previous life, protesting against the government, _his_ government. Still she had passion and beliefs, not enough people seemed to have those nowadays. After that was page upon page written up by members of the Department of Domestic Defense along with a photo of her with a man, skinny and long haired, the kind of hipster prick Malcolm instantly hated largely because he was wearing a waistcoat. It seemed they’d been following her and her boyfriend for a while, keeping an eye on them before they’d chosen the right time to take them in. After that there were daily reports that Malcolm only skimmed through. They all seemed pretty much the same - lots of swearing, threats, demands to at least be locked up with her boyfriend - Lex. 

It was all too much to go through in one night, but Malcolm had a strange urge to meet her, at least, to see what she was really like. It had been so long since he’d had anything interesting to do the thought of going to Manchester to meet an angry werewolf seemed like it might actually be a good idea, especially if she thought Rook was a cunt. If nothing else they could bond over that.

 

“I’ll do it,” Malcolm said the moment Rook picked up the phone. “I’ll go and see this girl of yours.”

“How many times must I tell you, Mr Tucker, she is not a girl. She’s a monster.”

“Girl, monster, whatever I’ll go to fucking _Manchester_ to have a word, so now will you tell me what I’m actually supposed to be getting her to do for you?”

Malcolm moved from the centre of his bedroom to sit heavily on the bed as Rook began to speak, to explain what exactly it was Malcolm was supposed to do. No wonder he hadn’t told him when they’d been in person because Malcolm would have nutted the cunt. As it was all he could do was sit and listen as the words entered his head and circled round repeatedly, not quite believing what Rook was saying so calmly, like it was nothing.

“I take it you’ll be _paying_ for my travel and everything else involved?” he asked, unable to even address what Rook had told him.

Rook laughed and it made Malcolm want to _hurt_ him. “Mr Tucker, we can barely afford to pay for our electric. We had hoped perhaps you could pay for now, keep your receipts. We’ll be sure to reimburse you at a later date.”

Malcolm didn’t even care anymore, he didn’t even know why he’d asked. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford it. All he really cared about was getting to Manchester, meeting this woman. Seeing what she was like. Seeing why Rook had decided she should be the one to do this terrible thing. Trying to warn her about what Rook had in mind, Christ seeing if he could try and help her, because it really seemed like she could do with _someone_ on her side. “Right, fine, whatever,” he sighed. “I’ll contact you, okay? I don’t want to fucking hear from you again, unless I initiate it, right?” 

“I would appreciate if if you’d keep me in the loop, Mr Tucker. I will need to know how you’re getting on. And of course if anything _were_ to happen…”

“I’ll text you everyday at ten so you know she hasn’t ripped my fucking throat out, how’s that?” he offered. “But I meant what I said I don’t want to see your name flashing up on my phone whether it’s a text, an email, or a fucking dick pic. I’m in charge now. You’ll be hearing from me when I’ve got something to say to you.”

Before Rook could even answer Malcolm hung up the phone and threw it down on his bed, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment. What the fuck had he agreed to? And more importantly why had he agreed to it? God he was stupid when he was bored.

 

The plus side to no longer being involved in politics was that Malcolm could now travel first class, which admittedly still wasn’t great when you were on a train to Manchester surrounded by businessmen talking too loudly about meetings on golf courses, but at least he could actually move his legs, although that thought only made him want to kick or trip a few people as they passed. Still being surrounded by annoying men in suits wasn’t a new experience for him and it was a fairly welcome distraction from what he was on his way to, and from what Rook had said. The less he thought about all that the better. There was a hell of a lot Malcolm would do for this country, he just wasn’t convinced this didn’t leap over the line even he refused to cross.

And now here he was, outside the block of flats, Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered with the suit. actually he was sure he shouldn’t have, he couldn’t have looked more conspicuous if he’d tried. This was not a nice place, but what did he expect? It probably wasn’t too easy finding decent accommodation when you were a werewolf.

The lift he got into was covered in graffiti, mostly just random shapes and tags, nothing even remotely witty or even abusive much to his disappointment, he wouldn’t have minded something to read on the way up to her floor. It didn’t smell like piss though, so perhaps the place wasn’t quite as bad as it seemed.

When the lift pinged on the fifth floor Malcolm got out, double checking the number of her flat on his phone as he strode over. So this was it. No turning back now. Maybe he’d get lucky. maybe she’d have already moved on. This didn’t exactly seem like the kind of place anyone would want to settle down in. The funny thing was though he wanted to meet her. He still didn’t know quite whose side he was on beyond his own, but he figured he’d work that out later.


	2. Pulls a Knife On You

“A little black bird sent me, said you might be able to help with a little problem he’s having..”

The knife was at his throat before Malcolm could even take a breath.

“You tell Rook he sends one more _fucking_ lackey after me and I’ll make him very, very sorry.”

Malcolm raised his hands to protest his innocence, eyeing the knife warily. He really wasn’t cut out for this. Oh he was used to dealing with psychopathic liars, but they didn’t normally pull weapons on him, not even Jamie had ever done that. Well okay, but he’d never pulled a _knife_ on him.

“Whoa there, darling, it’s not like that. I’m here to help. Call me your fairy fucking godfather. And could you…” he somehow managed to gesture using only his eyes and before he knew it he was yanked roughly into the dark hallway of her flat, the door slamming behind them.

“You don’t mention that bastard’s name in my house,” she said as she locked the door, and leant back against it, her heart pounding in her ears..

“Aye, okay, okay, sorry. He did mention you weren’t exactly the _best_ of friends.”

“He’s been trying to lock me up for the last five years, so yeah you could say that.”

“He also mentioned you had a habit of getting away. Slippery was the word he used. We need that, with everything that’s happening.”

“ _We_?” she said, brandishing the knife again. “You’re wearing a fucking grey suit. You’re one of them. Get out before I do something that’s going to take me all night to clean up.”

Malcolm was much more used to being on the other end when it came to threats, and while at the time he’d always meant them, he’d known he wouldn’t _actually_ rip someone’s spine out of their body, with the woman in front of him he wasn’t quite so sure. Maybe Rook was right. He knew nothing about this woman other than what Rook had told him, which he hadn’t really believed, but he was starting to think maybe it was all true. Maybe she was _really_ dangerous, wolf or not. And he’d come here on his own to talk to her? What the hell was wrong with him?

“I promise you I’m not one of those DoDD pricks, I just happen to like grey, it’s a good colour on me, don’t you think?”

She glared at him. 

“So who’s this ‘we’ you mentioned then?” She didn’t trust him, not for a moment, she had no idea why she’d even let him in but she was bored and lonely, and honestly she was kind of in the mood for a fight, a purpose even, because right now her existence was utter shit.

“All of us, the whole fucking country, the whole fucking _world_. If the knowledge about the monsters under the bed being fucking _real_ gets out, even if it’s only visible here the whole world’s going to start freaking out.”

“Why the fuck would I help?” she asked, moving past him into the front room, curling up on the sofa, glass of vodka in one hand, knife in the other. 

Malcolm followed her reluctantly. She didn’t look much like the photo in her file. She looked gaunt and tired, and kind of dirty, like she hadn’t showered in at least a week, and she seemed more than a little on edge, not that he could blame her. She was right, she was lucky not to be locked up in Rook’s containment facility, no wonder she’d pulled a knife on him at the mention of Rook. It had to be exhausting knowing she couldn’t just walk down the street, do what she wanted, because she was on some register as a monster.

“Because sitting back and letting it happen isn’t really your style, is it, darling?” he asked standing in the doorway, looking down at her. She looked even more pathetic now, curled up around herself protectively, holding a knife like some kind of paranoia case. Only she wasn’t being paranoid, was she? People really were out to get her, and he was one of them, maybe. “I saw the newspaper clippings, very impressive.”

“There are some things you can’t protest about, why do you think Rook’s so keen on shutting me up? I‘m the fucking enemy, remember? I’m _volatile_.”

“Well that’s just it, isn’t it? It’s too late. Everything’s already coming out into the open, and all because the fucking Tories want to save a few quid.”

She laughed bitterly at that. “It’s funny, I thought they were fucking the country before, Christ if I’d seen this coming…” She gestured for him to come into the room, moved to the other end of the sofa so he could sit down. She was pretty sure she wasn’t in any danger from him, not right now at least. He was old, she was probably faster and stronger than him, not to mention she was armed, so what did she have to lose really?

“Yeah? What would you have done?” he asked, leaning closer to her. He wanted to hear her ideas, because she really didn’t seem like the woman Rook had talked about right now. She seemed lost and broken. Defeated, that was the word. It was difficult to believe she had any fire in her at all, apart from the fact she’d had a knife to his throat a minute or two ago.

“I don’t know just fucking… _something_ ,” she sighed. Killed herself, maybe, especially once Lex had gone, because what was the point now? She didn’t have a life anymore, all she had was this crappy little flat and a fear of leaving it in case one of Rook’s lot came for her and yet she couldn’t just give up. It would have been easy to accept her fate. To just go quietly. She’d have had a roof over her head, three half way decent meals a day, no money worries. Only she couldn’t, every time they’d taken her in and she’d tried to just accept it her brain and body had screamed at her about how _wrong_ the whole thing was on so many different levels - keeping people caged up like fucking animals? She hadn’t even done anything wrong, she wasn’t a killer. And so instead she’d screamed and raged and smashed things up, and yeah hurt quite a few people, but never anything permanent, never anything _fatal_. She wasn’t a monster no matter how intent they seemed on turning her into one.

Finally she looked at the man that had appeared on her doorstep properly for the first time. The room was dim, the curtains closed because she didn’t much like the sunlight, but she was sure she’d seen him before. It just took her a second to place him.

“You’re Malcolm Tucker,” she said incredulously. “I remember you from the news. I remember your resignation.”

Malcolm shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The knife at his throat had been one thing, this was something else entirely. Of course she was politically aware, she went to protests and rallied against the government. Of course she knew who he was, why hadn’t he thought of that?

“Which one?” he asked.

“Well both actually, but I meant the proper one, the one that stuck. For the record I don’t give a fuck if you did it. Anything to take those Tory cunts down. I can’t even work out how they got into power. You really fucked up, letting that happen, didn’t you?”

Malcolm sighed. The majority of the last few years had been him trying not to think about all that. How they’d lost power, just as they’d known they would. But he knew how she felt, he still couldn’t work out why anyone would want the Tories more than them, regardless of how shit they were.

“I blame the fucking Lib Dems for joining them,” he said. “Never would’ve happened otherwise.”

Grey almost laughed, only she was too angry to really find any of this funny. “Yeah, me too actually. I mean...fuck’s sake it’s like Mandela joining the fucking BNP.” She shook her head. “I’ve never met anyone famous before.”

“I don’t think I count as famous, darling.”

“You count as famous more than those reality TV cunts,” she said, “least you’ve actually _done_ something.” 

“Listen, Grace-”

“Don’t call me that. I fucking _hate_ that name. It’s such a misnomer it isn’t even funny.”

“Okay, so what would you rather me call you?”

“Grey. My name’s Grey”

Malcolm tried and failed not to smirk as he looked at her, reminding himself the knife was still in front of her. “So...your name’s Grey White?” he asked, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Don’t fucking start okay. Yeah I know, but what am I gonna do? It’s my fucking surname,”

“Not go by a name that’s also a fucking colour?” he suggested carefully.

“Look it’s my fucking name, okay? If you find it so fucking hilarious you can just fuck off and tell Rook I refused to talk to you, right?”

“Right, right sorry,” Malcolm said raising his hands. “Seriously though…”

Grey glared at him. She seemed to be rather good at the old death glare, he was sure she could turn weaker men into gibbering wrecks with it. 

“Pissed off werewolf with a fucking knife,” she reminded him.

“Have you considered Ace?” 

“I swear to god if you don’t drop this I will stab you in the face. Also you’re suggesting that like it isn’t a fucking stupid name as well!”

“You admit Grey White’s a stupid name then?” he asked. He’d never had much of a sense of self-preservation, hence going into politics. And being here right now, thinking about it.

Slowly Grey leant forward and grabbed the knife from the coffee table.

“Change of subject?” Malcolm suggested, pressing himself subtly back in his seat. “So, I assume you know why he sent me?”

“Because I told him if I ever saw him again I’d rip his throat out with my teeth, whether it was a full moon or not?” she replied perfectly casually.

“That wasn’t _quite_ the wording he used.”

Grey sighed. “He’s been bombarding me with emails and phonecalls for weeks, I guess he thinks I can’t ignore an actual person.” She turned her head to look at Malcolm dead on. “I can.”

“You let me in,” he pointed out. It hadn’t really occurred to him until now she could have refused. He really hadn’t planned any of this particularly well, and it wasn’t as if he had his charm to fall back on.

The truth was she was lonely, achingly, depressingly lonely. And really this didn’t make it better, this wasn’t what she needed, what she _wanted_ even, but it was slightly better than drinking herself to sleep yet again. It was almost like human contact, it was just a shame he had something to do with Rook.

“A moment of madness.”

“You know they’ll close the department if you don’t help them, don’t you?.” 

“Good,” she said, grabbing her glass and sipping her vodka, avoiding looking at him again.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?”

“Do you really think the world’s going to be a better place without people to clean up the mess the less stable of your kind make?”

“My kind?” she spat, pointing at him with the knife. “Like your fucking _kind_ are so great?”

Malcolm shuffled back a little. So much for not being in any danger, but then he‘d never really believed Rook when he‘d said that, perhaps he just didn’t care all that much anymore. “Aye, I see your point, but it’s different, isn’t it? People being evil fuckers is something we sort of…accept. We have ways of dealing with it, you know law, justice, the police, the military. They can’t deal with the supernatural. But that’s not even what it is. We _know_ murderers and rapists exist. Most people don’t know about the other stuff, and they don’t want to. It’s all fiction to them. And that’s how it needs to stay.”

“What is it they say? Ignorance is bliss?” she laughed again, then put the knife down on the table at the side of the sofa, much to Malcolm’s relief. “Must be nice, not knowing about the fucking monsters out there. Not having your whole fucking world turned upside down, because as it turns out Rook’s fucking department doesn’t actually protect people nearly as well it claims to. It didn’t protect Lex, and it didn’t protect me!” She took another drink, very carefully not looking at him. “Oh no, wait. We’re not people are we? We’re _monsters_. We’re the ones they need to be protected _from_. Ironic that a monster’s the only one that can save his fucking department then. And fuck knows why he thinks I’ll do it after everything he’s done to me.”

Lex - the wanker in the waistcoat. He probably shouldn’t think of him like that, what was it about not speaking ill of the dead?

“Your boyfriend?” Malcolm asked carefully, his eyes on the knife on the table, just in case she went for it again.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I won’t.” Slowly she stood up, her glass still in her head, she walked over to the door without looking at Malcolm but paused in the doorway. “Will you excuse me a second?” she asked just before she left him all alone in her living room.

She never should have said his name. It was like picking at a scab just as it was starting to heal. And now here she was with her back against her bedroom door taking slow, deep breaths trying not to burst into tears because Grey White DId. Not. Cry. It was both a rule and a fact, or at least it had been once upon a time, before her boyfriend had died, no not died, been killed, murdered really. Now it was a rule. One she wasn’t all that good at keeping like the one she’d had years ago about drinking less and exercising more. Now the rule had been honed to ‘Grey White does not cry in front of people.’ one she’d be fucked if she failed on. It was quite an easy rule to follow really, on account of her never actually seeing people to cry in front _of_. But she’d drunk too much vodka to really be in full control of herself. She hadn’t been expecting company. She _never_ expected company. It should have been fine, she should have been safe, but right now all she was aware of was the tightness in her jaw and the tears blurring her vision.

She needed to go back out there. To ask Malcolm to leave, to tell him now really wasn’t a good time though admittedly there would never be a good time for any of this. She didn’t want to talk about Rook and his fucking emails. She just wanted to forget about that part of her life until she had no option but to acknowledge it. Then she’d lock herself in a cage and listen as her own bones cracked and reformed. But until then she just wanted to pretend she was normal, a normal borderline alcoholic shut in, it wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

Trying to pull herself back together enough to actually be able to go back out there Grey heard the click of her key in the lock of the front door and froze, listening out. Was someone else waiting? Was Malcolm letting them in now so they could take her to Rook? Torture her into doing what they wanted? Well if that was going to happen she was going kicking and screaming, just like every other time they‘d done it. She listened carefully as she heard the door open and close and then there was silence. Drying her eyes with the back of her hand to clear her vision Grey pulled on her boots and opened the door to her bedroom slowly, ready to make a run for it and hopefully fuck up one or two of them on the way out.

There was no one there.

In the living room she found a note on the table beside her knife.

_I’m coming back in a couple of days. Think about what you want to do. If you want to speak to me before then here’s my number._

_Malcolm_

 

Malcolm was already on the phone to Rook as he walked down the road to hail a cab.

“You think _she’s_ your brilliant secret weapon?” he asked the moment Rook answered. “Only I’ve just left her shut in her bedroom fucking _crying_. You’ve broken her, you know that, don’t you? The girl’s a fucking _wreck_.”

“It wasn’t us that broke her. I’m assuming you’ve read the _whole_ file, Mr Tucker?” Rook replied calmly.

“Course I have!” Malcolm lied.

“The part about her so called boyfriend? About what happened to him?”

“Maybe that page fell out.” he offered. He wasn’t about to admit he’d only skimmed through most of it, he didn’t want Rook thinking he knew things Malcolm himself didn’t.

“Dog fight, terrible business, really. She hasn’t been _quite_ the same since. I thought you were good at inspiring people though, Mr Tucker. We had hoped you’d be able to remind her of that fighting spirit she once had, before the vodka and self pity took over.”

Malcolm realised he probably should have read the _whole_ file before he’d just run head long into this, but that had never been his job, That had been what Sam did, read all the boring long winded stuff and condensed it down into the important facts, like the fact the werewolf was apparently also a grieving borderline alcoholic.

“She may not be _quite_ the fiery creature she once was, but it’s still in there, trust me. We’ve taken her in a couple of times since the...incident with this man. She’s still as aggressive and foul mouthed as ever. That spark’s still there, she just needs a bit more to turn it into a flame nowadays. We’re confident you’re the man that can do that. Don’t disappoint us, Mr Tucker.”

“Don’t fucking-” Malcolm was cut off as Rook hung up on him. “Weasley English _prick_ ,” he muttered to himself. Don’t disappoint them? He was the one doing them a fucking favour here, couldn’t Rook at least _try_ to sound appreciative?


	3. Hates Humanity

“I came with a peace offering,” Malcolm said, producing a bottle of vodka from behind his back when Grey answered the door. He hadn’t really expected her to be in, or if she was he definitely hadn’t expected her to answer the door. She wasn’t even holding a knife to his throat this time. They were all promising signs, she had to have been expecting him after all. She hadn’t even phoned to tell him not to come, to tell him to keep away from her. More than that though the flat seemed tidier and she didn’t look as rough as she had the day before, like she’d maybe had a shower.

“Cheers,” she said half heartedly as she took the bottle from him - Grey Goose. And she thought Russian Standard was expensive! “This you taking the piss out my name again?” she asked as she headed into the kitchen.

It took Malcolm a second to join the dots and when he was finally did he laughed. “Just thought it’d be a fair way to get into your good books.”

“I’d’ve been just as happy with Tesco’s Everyday Value,” she told him, as she grabbed a couple of glasses from the side of the sink.

“But you could afford that yourself, the point of gifts is that you get someone something they wouldn’t normally buy. Apparently.” He wasn’t really much of a present buyer, that had been Sam’s job as well, even for his mum most of the time. He wasn’t even sure why he’d thought of buying anything for Grey, it wasn’t like he was really trying to get her to do what Rook wanted. He’d just sort of found himself holding it at the checkout.

She poured them both a large measure without even asking if he wanted one, handing it over as she passed. “Not much of a mixer person, sorry,” she said.

“Bet you don’t even have ice, do you?”

“Next time,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting decent vodka in my house. I never expect anything decent in here.”

“Well if it makes you feel any better I’m sure the fact it’s me bringing it makes it significantly _less_ decent.”

She actually smiled at that. “It does actually,” she agreed. “Are all those rumours true then? About what a total bastard you are?”

“Not all of them,” he said thoughtfully. “But quite a few, yeah.”

“And yet here you are, trying to save the fucking country.”

“In fairness, darling, that’s all I’ve ever tried to do, it’s just I used to try and save them from Tory cunts rather than supernatural ones.”

“You think we’re cunts?” she asked.

“That’s what he’d like me to think - Rook. That you’re all fucking monsters, and I’m sure some of you are, but it’s just like people really, isn’t it?” He took a sip of his vodka and looked at her. “He showed me your file.”

“Oh I fucking bet he did.”

“Interesting read.” He leant back in his seat. 

“Yeah?”

“Some really fucking interesting photos.”

Grey swallowed, frowning as she took a gulp of her own drink. “You’ve seen me then?”

“Oh I’ve seen you, darling.”

“You’ve seen me like that and you’re calling me ‘darling’?’

“I’ve seen you looking worse. Nice to see you’ve made a bit of an effort for me today.”

“Well I don’t normally have company, so not much reason to bother, y’know? I’d’ve done this for anyone, don’t go thinking you’re special. I used to wash my hair when I was going to see Rook too, and you know what I think of him.”

“Fuck me, you know how to crush a man’s ego, don’t you? He never mentioned you willingly seeing him though. The way he told it he had to drag you in kicking and screaming.”

“We came to an arrangement for a bit,” she admitted.

“Go on.”

“I used to sell him my blood, when I was having trouble paying my rent after Lex…after Lex. “ She shrugged it off. It was something she couldn’t think about - what had happened to Lex, let alone talk about. “I guess you could call me an arms dealer.”

“Sorry, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Malcolm admitted, frowning slightly. “I’m not exactly an expert at all this.”

“Yeah, right. I keep sort of forgetting this isn’t exactly within normal people’s realms of experience.” She paused, wishing she hadn’t even mentioned it, because now she was going to have to explain, now he was going to know just what a horrible person she could be.

“It’s like acid, to vampires.”

“Not the fun kind, I take it?” He asked.

“They use it as a weapon against them,” she explained. “I used to pretend they only used it when they absolutely had to, y’know when they’ve got their fangs in someone’s neck, but I’m not that fucking clueless, I know they didn’t. They didn’t only hurt me when I was the wolf. I had to tell myself something though, just so I could sleep at night..”

Malcolm didn’t say anything for a moment. He was so out of his depth here. He had no idea about anything in this world. Rook hadn’t filled him in, not even when they’d been in power. It was all ‘need to know’ and Malcolm had never asked, because honestly the less he knew about it the better. “I thought he was the enemy.” he said finally. “ I _thought_ you were in favour of supernatural rights. Why would you help him like that? Why would you _sell_ him something to be used as a fucking _weapon_ against Type 2s.”

“Vampires,” she corrected quickly. “Don’t give me all that type 1, 2 and 3 bollocks. It’s dehumanising.”

“Aye, darling. I believe that’s the fucking point.”

“Yeah well it’s offensive. We _are_ people. It’s not like he says. I mean don’t get me wrong, the majority of vampires I’ve met aren’t much better than the fucking BNP, but werewolves, and ghosts, well they’re just like humans. I’m not saying they’re all great or cool. My feelings towards humans haven’t always been exactly favourable, but trust me we’re no worse than anybody else out there. We’re not fucking monsters to be kept in cages!” Okay so she was avoiding the question, but really what could she say? Nothing really justified what she’d done but she’d been desperate. 

Reaching for her glass she took a long drink, hoping Malcolm wasn’t paying enough attention to her to notice the way her hands were shaking. She should’ve been used to it by now - the inequality of it. The way Rook and his department talked about people like her but it still made her blood boil.

“But you don’t want the DoDD to be shut down?” he asked, ignoring the shaking. She was angry, as she had every right to be, but she was intelligent and passionate with it as well. He could see why Rook thought she might be able to help, though he doubted it was going to be quite that easy. He knew what the Tories were like and if they thought somewhere wasn’t value for money it was going to be shut down regardless of what it meant for other people.. The problem with the DoDD was that hardly anyone knew about it, so no one could get up in arms about its closure. Really it was the perfect department to get rid of. If you ignored the fact it involved letting a bunch of vampires and werewolves out into society. It was like care in the community but infinitely more dangerous.

“I’m not naïve enough to think that’s gonna end well. Some of the people they have locked up - they’re fucked in the head. It’s like unlocking the doors to a hospital for the criminally insane, only worse, because they come with their own inbuilt weapons and a support system that’ll clean it all away. And that isn‘t even the half of it.”

Again she took a shaky drink. Trying to calm herself with alcohol, trying to bide herself a little bit of time, before she lost it and started screaming right in his face like this was all his fault. Jesus it wasn’t even his fucking government running things. If it had been this wouldn’t have been happening. Labour were a lot of things, but they weren’t that clueless or money grabbing.

“Go on,” he pressed gently. “What’s the rest of it?”

Grey laughed bitterly and cast him a side on look. “When you found out about the existence of vampires and werewolves how did you feel? Was it calm and rational? Or fucking terrified? Did it make you want to _arm_ yourself, just in case?” She caught the rather sheepish look on the face and went on. “And you’re rational and intelligent.”

“I’m not sure where you got that idea from, darling.” he laughed.

Grey glared at him. It wasn’t his fault. It was a case of if you didn’t laugh and make jokes you’d cry. She’d been the same at the start but it was too far down the line for that now. Too serious. She could barely remember the last time she’d laughed properly.

“Okay, okay,” he admitted, holding his hands up. “You’re right. I’m not some bloody knee jerk reactionary thug.”

“Unlike quite a lot of the British public.” She shook her head and closed her eyes. She couldn’t think about what would happen, she couldn’t let the thoughts form in her mind but they were already there. Solid and terrifying and bloody. They’d be rounded up. It would be a fucking witch hunt. Jesus if you thought the EDL had it in for people of other races could you imagine how they’d take to other _species_. She’d been having nightmares for months now. Waking up to the flat on fire, to abuse and jeering, and that was one of the less frightening ones. She was always scared and always screaming but at least she wasn’t in pain. At least she wasn’t being beaten to death like in one of the others.

“If the public find out people like me exist we’re dead,” she said finally opening her eyes and looking at him, trying to keep her gaze steady and strong, but she wasn’t convinced she was managing it.

“I won’t let that happen, darling,” he said quietly, reaching out to touch her hand, but freezing halfway there and letting it fall back down to his leg.

“You’re not in power anymore,” she pointed out.

“No, but I don’t think it’ll be long until we’ve got a vote of no confidence against that sack of Eton shit calling himself the prime minister.”

“We haven’t got that long. For fuck’s sake, Malcolm. This is _it_. This is the end. You can’t do anything about it, _Rook_ can’t do anything about it. _I_ can’t do anything about it! We’re fucked. It’s packet of pills and a bottle of vodka time!”

Suddenly Malcolm was standing, the coffee table almost knocked over with the force and suddenness of his reaction. He looked down at her, rage and disgust distorting his face.

“Rook was wrong about you, wasn’t he?” he said, pointing his finger at her. “’Oh she’s full of fire and anger, but she’s smarter than any other type 3 I’ve met. She might actually know what she needs to do. She won’t just let this happen.’ But he was wrong wasn’t he, darling? You’ve got no fire, no anger. All you’ve got is a fuck ton of self-pity and a bit of a drinking problem, and trust me we’ve got quite enough of that in the fucking opposition as it is.” he shook his head and sneered. “You’re fucking pathetic. Look at yourself, talking about fucking suicide? The way Rook talks about you I thought you’d be less selfish than that. Less fucking cowardly.”

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked. “Wait for them to come for me?”

“Of course you don’t fucking _wait_. You do something so they _don’t_ come for you or anyone else. Because whatever you think it’s not too late. Not as long as we’re still here and no one’s gone on a fucking killing spree. Now where’s this fucking fight I keep hearing all about? Rook still has a bit of a limp when it snows y’know?”

Grey exhaled sharply through her nostrils, less a laugh more a sound but it was closer than she’d managed in a while.

“Do you know what he wants me to do?” she asked. He’d mentioned no one going on a killing spree, did he even know what he was supposed to be convincing her to do?

“Yeah,” he sighed. God he was such a fucking idiot sometimes, why had he said that? He couldn’t have chosen anything worse to say if he’d tried!

“And do you want to know what the worst part is about the whole thing?”

“No,” Malcolm said honestly. “I really don’t think I do.”

“Well I’m gonna tell you anyway. The worst thing is the main thing stopping me from agreeing is that it was Rook that asked me, and I’m really not very inclined to do _anything_ that cunt asks, whatever it is.”

Malcolm stared at her for a moment, sure he’d misheard her. “Are we definitely talking about the same thing here, darling?”

“I mean I wouldn’t use the word ‘spree’ it’s a bit fucking upbeat, isn’t it? And I don’t suppose it’s gonna be much fucking _fun_.” She shook her head and downed her drink. She couldn’t believe she was admitting this to him, she was struggling to admit it to herself, to accept the fact that she would kill a bunch of, well not exactly innocent people, but people nonetheless, to try and keep the world in the dark about supernaturals. She really wasn’t one for self sacrifice, but if it had to be done, well someone had to do it, didn’t they? She already hated herself, so really why not? “I’ve been trying to work out if this’d make me a terrorist, or just a plain old mass murderer,” she said.

Malcolm was still staring at her in disbelief. He’d been sent her to convince her to do something he didn’t think she should and she seemed fine with it anyway, scarily fine with it. Perhaps Rook was right, maybe she _was_ a monster.

“You’re never coming back here again, are you?” she asked. “Don’t worry, I don’t blame you. Why the fuck would anyone want to spend time with someone after they’ve admitted to that if they didn’t have to?”

Malcolm was still struggling for the right words, for any words for that matter, He was just so totally fucking stunned.

“Jesus fucking say _something_ , even if it’s ‘I’m calling the police’. You’re freaking me out now.”

“I was sent here to persuade you to do it,” he said finally, looking across at her. “And I was going to do it. Does that really make me any better than you? I’m basically a fucking accessory.”

“You looked like you were gonna vom.”

“Yeah well that might still happen,” he admitted. He reached for the bottle of vodka, refilling both their glasses. He couldn’t deal with any of this with a clear head, it just wasn’t going to work. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he admitted, taking a gulp. “I don’t want it to be you that does it. It has to happen, I get that but...why you?”

“Because Rook’s trying to prove a point about me? Because he’s trying to get revenge for me escaping and breaking his leg? Because he knows I understand the enormity of what I’m doing.”

“Let me talk to him.”

“Rook’s way too stubborn to change his mind. I’m his girl. I think it might just be easier to accept it, Better me than some poor sweet, innocent person that he tricks into doing it, because he would. He’d let some poor clueless bastard change and kill a load of people and blame themselves forever. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you really think you’ll be able to do it?”

“Once the change comes I won’t have any say in the matter. Which is what he’s counting on, of course.”

“And you think you’ll be able to live with the guilt of it?”

Grey smiled, laughing a little. “I don’t think that’s gonna be much of a problem.”

Malcolm looked across at her. Did she really not care? He didn’t get it, she seemed so keen on doing what was right, she protested for equal rights, against injustices and she didn’t think she’d feel guilty about killing a bunch of people? The thought was terrifying.

“Malcolm,” she said. “Whatever you’re thinking fucking _don’t_ , right? You have absolutely no idea what’s going on here, and trust me it’s much, much better that way. Because you understand…” she shook her head. “You know Rook’s moto, right?”

“No care, all responsibility,” he said. The guy really was a fucking sociopath, and he wasn’t entire convinced Grey wasn’t too.

“I don’t _want_ to do this. Malcolm,” she said. “But if it’s not me it’s someone else.”

Malcolm stared at her in silence for a few seconds, not sure if was terrified or in awe. She was going to do this so no one had to? That was...well it was crazy, but it was also incredibly brave. “You’re really going to do it, darling?” he asked.

Grey shrugged. “Fuck knows,” she admitted. “But right now, yeah. I think I am.” She didn’t say another for a moment as she took another drink of her vodka. “Don’t tell him though, yeah? I don’t want to know he’s won.”

“Course not, it’ll our fucked up little secret, yeah?”


	4. Locks Herself in a Cage

Grey had gone to the station with him, muttering something about how she needed to get of the house. She’d even stayed with him until he’d got on the train, but then there had been a drink in it for her and she seemed quite willing to put up with a lot if there was free alcohol involved. 

And now he was sitting in first class with his folder and his complimentary wine thinking about her. She was,,,well actually she was very close to being fucking terrifying in a lot of ways, but in others, well she was smart, practical, caring even. And she’d agreed to do what Rook wanted. which he supposed he would have to tell him, but then what? Would there be any need for him to see her ever again? No he couldn’t see Rook going for that, not that he could stop him of course, but the excuse was pretty fucking handy even if Rook wasn’t paying his expenses. So he’d lie. It wouldn’t be difficult, Grey hated Rook after all, so why _would_ she agree to do something so terrible for him? It made no sense. Clearly he’d need more time to talk her round.

 

“You know I’m starting to feel like a fucking rent boy, all this meeting in hotel rooms,” Malcolm said as he stepped into Rook’s room.

“I wouldn’t know,” Rook replied curtly. “So Ms White, have you convinced her of what needs to be done yet?”

“Wow not even any fucking foreplay. You know this is gonna cost you extra, don’t you?”

“Mr Tucker,” Rook replied, clearly irritated. “While i appreciate your time is much less valuable that it used to be _I_ still have rather a lot of things to do to save the country from supernatural beings! So if you don’t _mind_!”

“Okay, okay,” Malcolm said, raising his hands. “In answer to your question, no, no I haven’t. I’m sorry, Rook but she fucking _hates_ you. Seriously. I’m pretty sure you could ask her to fuck fucking...Alex James and she’d refuse just because it was you who asked her!”

“Alex James?”

“The pretty one from Blur, I mean he makes fucking cheese now but anyway my point is whatever you ask her to do she’ll refuse on principle!”

“Which is _exactly_ why I asked you,” he pointed out,

“Yeah well sorry but she’s incredibly stubborn. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Then I suppose you’ll have to go and see her again and again until she changes her mind. I thought you were supposed to be _good_ at these things. Christ, you can get a cabinet full of ministers and the majority of the British media to do what you want but you can’t persuade one Type 3 to do the same?”

Malcolm actually had to bite his tongue. This wasn’t what he wanted! And he’d never said it was, he’d merely agreed because he’d been bored and this had given him a purpose, but actually the purpose he’d been given he could really fucking do without. Thing was he liked Grey, and he really didn’t like a lot of people at all so obviously he couldn’t admit to how much he hated all this or Rook would send someone else.

“Slightly different fucking circumstances,” he pointed out.

“Be that as it may I’m relying on you to do this for me, Mr Tucker, to manipulate her into doing what _needs_ to be done. You do want to do what’s right for the country, don’t you?”

“Course I fucking do!” he spat. “Why do you think I stayed with my party so long?”

“Because you had nothing else in your life?” Rook suggested.

Malcolm looked at him. The permanent secretary of the Department of Domestic Defence. It didn’t matter who was in power, the change of governments didn’t mean anything to him and his role, or at least it hadn’t until now. And suddenly Malcolm understood. Oh he still hated the fucker, largely because he’d got Grey involved, actually maybe only for that reason, but he got it. You had to do terrible things to keep things running, to do what mattered and when doing that was all you had...yeah he could see why he was willing to do anything, because otherwise what reason would he even have to get out of bed in the morning? It had taken Malcolm about a month and Sam to get him to manage it after he’d resigned.

“You know _nothing_ about me,” he hissed. “So can I go now?” he asked, already turning away. He couldn’t stand this, being around someone in such a similar circumstance it was too much of a reminder.

“You have another week.” Rook said. “After that we’ll start looking at other options. So you might like to get on the next train to Manchester.”

“If this all goes to plan I’ll be giving you my expenses,” he said. “Do you have any fucking _idea_ how much it costs to buy a train ticket on the day?”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” he said. “I am vaguely aware of how much you earnt.”

“So what exactly is in this for me?” he asked, for the first time.

“Why, the knowledge you’re keeping your beloved country safe from monsters, Mr Tucker,” Rook replied.

“And who’s keeping them safe,” he asked.

Rook laughed. “Funny,” he said. “So I’ll be expecting a call from you in the next few days. I’ll also be expecting some progress, got it?”

“FIne,” he said heading for the door.

“Oh and try to remember there’s a full moon coming up, you’re not much good to me mauled.”

 

“So I went to see Rook,” Malcolm said, as Grey opened the door to him. “He likes to be kept up to date on my progress.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“The truth,” Malcolm replied stepping inside.

Grey felt her stomach flip. He seemed far too comfortable for something that fucking her over, so maybe she was jumping conclusions but… “The truth?” she repeated. “Which is?”

“That you fucking hate him and won’t do a thing he asked. He said I have to spend more time time talking you into it, or they’ll send someone else in my place, so sorry darling, guess you’re stuck with me.”

Grey managed a glare she _really_ didn’t feel.

“He also mentioned the full moon was coming up,” he said more carefully.

Grey rolled her eyes at him. “And you _needed_ telling that, did you?” she asked. “You keep showing up on my fucking doorstep and you don’t even know when the full moon is?”

“Um…” Malcolm reached around to scratch the back of his neck. That was a really good point, wasn’t it? _Fuck_!

She laughed incredulously. “Fuck me, talk about a death wish!” she said shaking her head.

“What? It’s not like the fucking change _here_ , in your fucking flat, is it?”

Grey was trying really, _really_ hard not to look at Malcolm as if he was a moron but he was making it _incredibly_ difficult. “Malcolm,” she said, trying to stay calm, to not patronise him or anything like that but… _fuck_! “In your head what do you think happens during a full moon? Like what do you think I do?”

“I don’t know, I figured you went fucking…froliking in the fucking woods eating Bambi’s mum and shit.”

“Froliking in the woods, in the middle of Manchester? The only thing I’d be eating are fucking doggers! Jesus Malcolm, didn’t he fill you in on any of this?”

“He was more focused on you in captivity than in your natural fucking habitat,” he replied. “So go on then, what _do_ you fucking do?”

“Lock myself in a cage a while before the moon’s due to go up, let myself out when I’ve got opposable thumbs again,” she said with a shrug.

“You lock yourself in a fucking cage?” he repeated.

“What else am I gonna do?”

She had him there, and really it wasn’t something he’d given much thought to. He’d spent years very carefully _not_ thinking about any of that supernatural stuff.

“How do you…?” he couldn’t finish his sentence, unsure of what words to even use.

Grey smiled faintly. “You want to see it, don’t you?” she asked.

“I just can’t believe you’ve got a fucking cage.”

She stepped past him, still trying not to openly laugh at him and his shock. She looked back to make sure he was following her.

He followed her down the short hallway to a door on the right that she opened and stepped through.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Malcolm said, as he joined her in the room covered in strange black rubber padding, a cage filling three quarters of the room.

“You going to tell me this is purely for the full moon,” he said with a smirk.

“We’re not getting into a conversation about my now non-existent sex life, okay?”

“I’m taking that as a no,” he informed her.

“Malcolm.” He was far too familiar, too comfortable with her. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been like that with her so quickly. She wasn’t exactly the easiest person to get on with especially not nowadays..

He looked over to the cage again. “You lock yourself in there?”

“Yeah.” She moved closer, her fingers running over the bars. There was a key tied to the bars on the floor so it could never end up out of reach. “I always know when it’s coming. I lock myself in when I’m still…me and I wait.”

He could see it in his mind’s eye and it felt oddly painful - her inside the cage. _Her_ , not the supposed monster she became. 

“Grey.”

She ignored the pity in his voice, the pain there. She wasn’t going to feel sorry for herself, not right now. She’d already done way too much of that. She was going to pull herself together. Accept this was what she had to do. She didn’t believe in fate or destiny, but she knew her options were thin on the ground. And Jesus locking herself in a cage was the very least of it.

“It’s not so bad actually. It’s safe. Once I’m inside I don’t have to worry about anything going wrong.”

“You lock yourself in a cage,” he said, blinking. There were tears in his eyes at the thought of it. This was her life, so much so that she’d sound proofed the room.

“Malcolm,” she said, clearly trying to get him to snap out of it. “You wanna just pretend it’s a sex cage?” she offered, “would that make you feel better? Okay, so I already had this cage anyway, cos I used to keep my sub chained up in there until I saw fit to use him. Better?”

Malcolm was trying very not to imagine that. Still it had done the trick, he was no longer thinking about her locked in there all alone and frightened, no, the mental he had now was _very_ different. He cleared his throat and tried to blink the images away. “Yeah,” he agreed, looking across at her with a smirk. “Much. Cheers.”

“You wanna try it out?” she offered, which a wicked glint in her eye.

“What?” he asked. The being chained up until she had use for him? The answer to that was definitely meant to be a very quick and certain ‘no’ wasn’t it?

“The cage. Promise not to lock you in.”

Malcolm looked at it for a moment, the door was shut, but it did look reasonably big, big enough to more than stretch out in, even for him, but it was still smaller than her box room. “Think I’ll give it a miss if it’s all the same,” he told her.

“Can’t really blame you,” she agreed. “Plus you are running the risk of me deciding to keep you as my own personal sex toy. This whole thing could be an _incredibly_ elaborate ruse, cos I mean come on, fucking _werewolves!_ ”

Malcolm was suddenly simultaneously terrified and aroused. 

“Do you want me here?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“As my own personal sex toy?”

“No, no I mean...for the full moon.”

“Oh so you’re still buying that over me wanting you as a sex slave?” she asked.

“Grey,” he said seriously.

“Right okay, sorry. Dropping that now. You want to be here for the full moon?” She looked at him like he was crazy, because she could only right the urge for so long. They barely knew each other, and she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about him at the moment, she was pretty sure she liked him, and she was apparently comfortable enough around him to be wildly inappropriate with, but there was something about him that just made her kind of angry sometimes. “Why the fuck would I want you here?” she asked. It was a private thing, something terrible and intimate to be kept to herself. It want something that wanted an audience.

“I don’t fucking know, I just thought so you wouldn’t be alone? In case you need anything when you wake up?”

“Malcolm, that’s a really fucking _nice_ offer, but trust me on this, fucking _no way_ , right? I’ll be fine, I’ve been doing this on my own for a long time now, don’t worry about it.” She didn’t want him seeing her like that, hearing her screams or seeing what she became. She didn’t want him to be frightened of her.

“ So...that’s a no then, aye?”

“Seriously, Malcolm. You do not want to be here when I change.”


	5. Tears Herself Apart

It was the night before the full moon and the mere sight of it as Grey closed her curtains before bed made her feel physically sick. It wasn’t as if she needed to see it to know it was coming of course, she could feel it in her body, and she always knew what date it was on just in case by some odd chance she had plans. Seeing it though - huge and bright in the sky only made it even more real. She tried to ignore it as she got into bed but her body already felt odd, _wrong_ , as if it was vibrating on the inside the way it did when she drank far too much real coffee, back when she’d _drunk_ real coffee. Or when she’d taken too much speed, only she didn’t even do that anymore, because what was the point? It didn’t feel like her body, it felt more like she was borrowing it, like it was too small for her, like trying to convince yourself you were a size 8 when you were really a 12. 

Closing her eyes she tried to ignore the feeling that her bones and innards might just burst out of her skin at any moment, stretching and turning as she tried to get more comfortable, as if that was possible, as if she’d _ever_ managed to get comfortable or even sleep the night before the full moon. Actually that was a lie. Early on she’d drank herself to the point of blacking out, but the next morning, the hangover combined with the heightened senses that come from being a werewolf were way too much to handle, so now she just accepted it. She wasn’t going to sleep, even if she hadn’t felt so trapped in her own body, that wasn’t even the half of it.

Her senses were already too sharp, every time she moved she could hear and feel the scratching of the cheap sheets under her, could smell the washing power in the back of her throat. She didn’t know why she even bothered going to bed anymore, she’d have been better off just staying up, watching crappy TV. Or maybe she should have seen just how willing to help her Malcolm was. She could actually think of worse ways to spend a night than with Malcolm Tucker, talking, obviously. Nothing else. Definitely nothing else. But even that thought was a welcome distraction from everything else buzzing around in her head. Yeah, maybe if she thought hard enough about absolutely, and definitely _not_ shagging Malcolm Tucker on her sofa she’d be able to blot out all the things that were normally in there like the fear of what was going to happen tomorrow. It didn’t matter how many times she went through it, it was always the same, it wasn’t something you could _ever_ get used to. It was the thought of it that was worse though, the howling, _screaming_ pain that left her feeling like she’d been eating glass the next day, or maybe that was just because of the way her throat shredded during the change? It wasn’t like she could ask a fucking doctor, was it?

Digging her nails into the palm of her hands she tried to focus on Malcolm, part of her wanted to go and roll around on the sofa to get his scent on her like that might make everything else fade just a bit. She just needed something to take her mind off it, off the knowledge she’d soon hear her own bones cracking and breaking, her skin tearing, her fucking _muscles_ snapping from their tendons. The thought brought bile to her throat but she swallowed it down, taking a deep breath. The last thing she needed was to spend half the night throwing up, she could really do with keeping up her strength for tomorrow, not that it really seemed to matter, it would happen anyway, her body would tear itself apart, then shift and contort and pull itself back together in a completely different shape, something terrifying and lethal and just plain fucking _wrong_. And then, _then_ , it would happen again, just the other way round, and leave her almost as if nothing had happened apart from the fact she could barely move and had the taste of her own blood in her mouth. It was no wonder she never slept, was it? How the hell could she with all that in her head?

 

She’d given it a good go, staying in bed until 11am, and she was fairly sure she’d drifted off at some point, briefly, or maybe her brain had just checked out and decided to leave her body to it. She stayed inside, curtains closed against the sun. She could hear the birds outside singing, everything too peaceful, too normal. She hated that sometimes, how everything just carried on completely normally even as she felt herself starting to change. She was _prowling_. If she’d been herself it might have been called pacing but she wasn’t. She could feel it in her, the wolf, just under the surface as her fingers curled and uncurled just _itching_ to scratch something. She remembered how Lex had always been the day of the full moon, she didn’t notice it as much in herself because she was never around people this close anymore, but there was a voice in the back of her head wishing she’d asked Malcolm to stay. The wolf needed to be distracted, to use up some of its energy. The best sex of her life had been on the day of the full moon with Lex’s fingernails digging into her skin and she felt that urge now - to fuck or fight, to just do _something_. She knew that wasn’t going to happen though. It couldn’t. The very last thing Malcolm needed was to be here this close to a change, and fucking him, like this, when she was going out of her mind as the wolf took over? That really wasn’t how she wanted this to happen.

She locked herself into the cage a little earlier than usual, mostly to stop herself from doing something fucking stupid like asking Malcolm to come over. She’d tear him apart, possibly literally. It wasn’t so bad. True the wolf didn’t give a shit about if it was comfortable but Grey always woke up in there, and often spent a while before the change just _waiting_. There were duvets, long since shredded like hamster bedding in the corner, but they still did the job, kept her warm and cosy when she huddled up against them. 

For now though she just stood there, trying to keep calm, taking slow, deep breaths while she waited.

And then it came. 

That first involuntary twitch, _spasm_ of her arm as her muscles began to jump and pulse under her skin. 

She got down onto her knees and looking up at the ceiling. The moon was here. The _wolf_ was here.

She closed her eyes and willed it away as her back arched and she screamed in agony.


	6. Would Rather Have a Hangover

You look like shit, Darling,” Malcolm said when Grey opened the door to him. She had dark bags under her eyes and looked like she hadn’t slept in a month, even the way she was moving suggested she’d had a heavy night.

“Yeah well, you know what it’s like. time of the month.” She turned away, moving slowly down the hallway into the living room not even looking to see if he was following her.

“Want me to leave?” he offered.

She practically collapsed onto the sofa, curling in on herself like a cat, wincing in pain at the movement as she looked up at him. “It’s fine,” she lied, reaching gingerly for the packet of Ibuprofen in front of her, taking two of them without water. She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the sofa and took a deep, shaky breath trying to at least hide the pain she was in.

“Is it like this every month?” Malcolm asked, sitting in the chair beside her, keeping his eyes on her. He remembered what Rook had said about her being a monster he just couldn’t see it, not with her like this. She looked more like a fragile doll, though he was pretty certain saying that to her wouldn’t go down at all well and even like this he felt pretty sure she’d summon the strength from somewhere to at least yell at him.

“Sometimes it’s better than others.” She opened her eyes and turned her head slowly to look at him. She still couldn’t work out why he was bothering with any of this, it wasn’t his problem, well no more than it was anyone else’s at least.

“Please tell me this is one of the bad ones.” He wasn’t sure why he cared so much, but the thought of her feeling or looking even worse than this bothered him.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this rough. It never lasts that long though, I’ll be fine again in a few days, maybe you should come back then.”

When he made no effort to move Grey sighed again. “I’m really not good company at the moment, I think I’m just gonna take some codeine and go back to bed.”

“You say it like you’re ever good company,” he replied with a slight smile. “And I really wouldn’t recommend that, not on top of the Ibuprofen.” He almost asked if she wanted to wake up again but thought better of it. He really wasn’t convinced she did most of the time. 

“I just want to go to sleep,” she said sullenly, hugging herself a little tighter. “I just want to stop fucking _aching_.” Carefully she unfolded herself, pushing herself up from the sofa.

“Where are you going?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Grey looked down at him, eyebrow raised. “Jesus, how much of a threat has Rook made me out to be? Trust me I’m not going anywhere I can barely manage fucking _stairs_ right now.”

“Right, I just thought… you can barely fucking move, Christ it’s like watching my fucking granny. I just meant...is there anything I can do for you? Anything I can get you to make it better?” Jesus. had he really just asked that?

Her lips twitched into a smile for half a second. “I was just gonna get some Deep Heat from the bathroom, I’d let you go but I don’t really like strange men going through my bathroom cupboards, plus you’re likely to get attacked by various bottles of stuff, so it’s fine, you just stay there, or get yourself a drink, whatever. Just don’t worry about me, right? I’ve been looking after myself for three years now, I can cope.”

A few minutes later Grey appeared in the doorway, a tube of Deep Heat in her hand. “I’m just gonna go and…” she gestured vaguely at herself, “coat myself in foul smelling shit in the hope I can move without wincing soon.” She noted the glass of orange juice in front of him and smiled. “I might be a while.”

 

The flat was small enough that Malcolm could hear the pained groans from Grey’s bedroom as he sat in silence sipping his juice and wondering what the hell he was still doing here, why he hadn’t just left her to it when he’d seen the state of her, but he’d come all this way, two hours on the train and he didn’t really feel like staying in Manchester if he could possibly help it. He might not have been needed much in London anymore but being in Manchester was just depressing. God, he’d turned Southern, he shuddered at the thought as he stood and went to the bedroom, knocking on the door.

“Either you’re in more pain than you’re letting on or you’re doing something I really don’t want to know about,” he paused for a second smirking to himself then added, “or something I really _do_ want to know about.”

Grey rolled her eyes. “I fucking wish,” she called back. “I’m fine just...it’s all a bit awkward, everything fucking hurts so it’s a bit difficult to reach anything.”

“You want a hand?” Even Malcolm was surprised the words had left his mouth. But that seemed to keep happening.

“That hard up are you?” she asked, “That desperate to touch a woman?”

“Do you want a fucking hand or not?” 

“You really don’t have to.”

“Yeah well I’ve offered now, haven’t I?” he pointed out. hand on the doorknob about to open it before he stopped.

“Are you decent?”

Grey couldn’t help but laugh, something she instantly regretted as every single muscle in her body seemed to throb with pain. “You think I’ve ever been decent, Malcolm?” she asked.

“Point taken,” he said as he let himself in her room and stopped, not sure whether to look away or just ignore it as she sat there in nothing but her boxers.

Fuck it.

“Nice tits,” he said as he stepped closer, taking the tube from her. “Why don’t you lie down? Where’s it hurt the most?”

“Everywhere,” Grey replied, as she eased herself down onto her bed, turning her head to the side on the pillow.

“Anywhere specific?”

“Shoulders, lower back, thighs, I can reach my lower back and thighs okay but-”

“You just tell me if I’m too rough with you, okay?”

Grey bit her lip, trying not to make any kind of sex joke, but it was difficult. She was lying on her bed almost completely naked with Malcolm fucking Tucker basically offering her an all over body massage. Plus it had been years since she’d been touched by a man.

“My whole body tore itself apart last night, I think I can probably deal with you touching me.”

“Aye but look at the fucking state of you now. It’s always the same, it’s the morning after that you pay for it.”

“The voice of experience?”

“Well I imagine it’s just like a really bad fucking hangover after a big night out - you can’t remember what the fuck you got up to, you’re covered in unexplained bruises and your whole body hurts, sounds like classic morning after the night before if you ask me. Least you’re not waking up next to anyone.”

Grey’s expression changed from one of amusement to completely blank instantly and Malcolm instantly realised how tasteless that had been.

“I didn’t mean…”

“I didn’t kill him.”

 

“I know you didn’t,” he said quickly. “Fuck Grey…”

“I’ve never killed anyone. Not yet.”

It was incredibly rare that Malcolm felt truly bad about anything, or felt small, or like he wanted the ground to just swallow him up but he felt all of those things in that moment. Rook had sent him here to convince her to turn herself into a mass murderer and here he was making jokes about waking up next to bodies. It had been different when he’d been with the party, when he’d been in government, all the jokes and threats had been just that, but here they were real.

“Grey…”

“My lower back’s the worst,” she said, turning her head away, trying to ignore what had just happened. “If you want to start there.”

Malcolm rubbed the Deep Heat into her back in silence, hands gentle, trying to soothe rather than really ease her tense muscles until she turned her head to look at him again. 

“I’m not gonna break, you can do it harder. You’ll know if it’s too painful because I’ll scream obscenities at you and probably lash out.”

“Thanks for that piece of comfort there, darling,” he said, as he worked his fingers into her muscles, rubbing them in small circles, feeling how tight and knotted they felt beneath his fingers.

“That’s it. _Fuck_ ,” Grey groaned in a way that made Malcolm simultaneously uncomfortable and aroused. He tried to ignore it though, carrying on working, until he was confident he was done and moved up to her shoulders instead.

“I can’t really get to you like this,” he admitted once he was done with her shoulder blades and upper back. “Can you sit up a bit? If it isn’t too painful.”

Grey groaned at the very idea of having to move. She finally felt somewhat comfortable, Malcolm had a pretty amazing pair of hands on him, she had to admit - big and strong and she really did feel less like her muscles were still trying to reform.

“Can you just do my thighs instead?” she asked, “seems stupid to sit up to have to lie back down again.”

“Whatever works for you,” he said, frowning slightly at his own words. What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn’t realised how soft a few years out of politics had made him. Though he wasn’t sure that was all it was. There was something about her. She brought some weird protective side out of him.

“So,” she asked after a few minutes. “How much for a happy ending?”

“What. with my fingers covered in Deep Heat?” he asked. “I didn’t have you pegged as being into that kind of thing..”

“Well you’d have to wash your hands first obviously, not a mistake you make twice.”

“Oh yeah?” He knew he shouldn’t ask but he just couldn’t help himself.

“The wolf gets horny,” she said simply.

“The wolf?” he repeated skeptically. “I didn’t know wolves could wank, darling, but then I was never all that interested in natural history and I don’t think Attenborough covered that in any of his fucking BBC documentaries.”

“It sticks around for a while,” she admitted, shifting a little on her bed, wishing she hadn’t brought it up, and particularly wishing she hadn’t started thinking about it because now she had she was very, very aware how just how horny she was now she was no longer in _quite_ so much pain.

“Is that right?” His voice was low and close and doing absolutely nothing for her current state of arousal.

“Just a couple of days, before and after.”

“Huh,” he said moving away. “Must be pretty fucking frustrating.”

“Only when the batteries run out.”

“Listen I can come back tomorrow if you want,” he offered, looking down at her, laying there on top of her bed. “You can hardly keep your eyes open. You should sleep.”

Grey opened her eyes a little wider, ever stubborn, trying to make a point. “I’m not gonna sleep all day.”

“Maybe you should, I’m guessing you didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Probably not,” she agreed, though in truth she had no idea really, but going on the way she felt it was a safe bet. “Does Rook pay your travel?” 

Malcolm laughed at the very thought. “He can barely afford to pay his electricity bill.”

“So..?”

“I did okay out of my previous career, got a decent resignation package, money from publishers for stuff they can’t _actually_ publish. I was always too fucking busy breaking my back for a bunch of incompetents to really spend what I earnt, so money isn’t really an issue.”

“Coming backwards and forwards though, isn’t it a lot of hassle?”

“I’m retired, darling, I really don’t have a lot to do with my time. You’re almost doing me a favour, I’ve been so fucking bored since I left politics.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just stay here? In Manchester I mean, not here here.”

“I thought you wanted to be left alone.”

“I’m not going to be though, am I? And I want to be left alone by Rook and his fucking guys. You’re…”

“I’m what?” He asked

“The lesser of a number of evils?” she offered “Pretty fucking bearable compared to them, Jesus, not even compared to them.”

“Pretty fucking bearable. You know that’s genuinely one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said about me.”

“Yeah well I have basically been a shut in for five years, y’know apart from when Rook had me locked in a cage so I wouldn’t take it as too much of a compliment, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

“So?” she pressed.

“So what?”

“Why don’t you stay in Manchester for a bit?”

“Nah,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “No offence, darling, but it’s not really me.” Which was true, but also he suspected the more time he spent up here with her the worse things would get. He needed to keep his distance, even if he didn’t really believe a word Rook said about her.

“Guess I’ll see around then, yeah?”

“Guess you will,” he agreed.


	7. Does Not Fit The Profile

“This is starting to become a habit,” Grey said as she opened the door to Malcolm.

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want. I’ve got a hotel room with freeview waiting for me a couple of streets away, but I did bring vodka.”

“You don’t _have_ to keep bringing me vodka, y’know. There’s still a bit of the last bottle left, I don’t drink that much.”

“Aye well my mother taught me it was rude to show up to people’s houses empty handed, so here we are. I can take it back if you like though.”

“No, no that’s fine,” she said taking it off him before he could do as he’d said. “So,” she said turning away from him to head into the kitchen to get glasses. “Why are you here?”

“Like I said you can tell me to fuck off if you want,” he pointed out following her. “I was bored.”

She turned to look at him. “Why are you even in Manchester, Malcolm. I’ve already told you I’m willing to do it, so why aren’t you back in London doing whatever the fuck it is you do down there nowadays?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Why was he here? Why had he lied to Rook about needing more time to convince her? Well it wasn’t like he exactly had anything to do in London, and hadn’t for years now. “I fancied a change of scene, and I’m a bastard for a ten pound all you can eat breakfast buffet. Oh that reminds me,” he paused, reaching into his jacket pockets, producing two French pastries wrapped in napkins and set them down on the kitchen counter. “Thought you might like these.”

Grey smiled despite herself. “Vodka and pain au chocolat?” she asked as she unwrapped one.

“Breakfast of champions.”

“Well cheers,” she said. “Very thoughtful of you.”

“I’ll try and nick some of those little packets of jam tomorrow if you like, I can only eat so many croissants before I start feeling like a fat bastard and I like to get my money’s worth. Plus you look like you could do with some decent food.”

“Malcolm,” she sighed. She’d been fine on her own for years. She didn’t need him strolling in and trying to make things better for her, it was patronising.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but…”

“But what? Go on whatever the fuck it is, say it.”

“You don’t have to keep bringing me stuff. I’m okay, yeah?”

“Really? Cos you look like fucking shit, darling,” he told her.

She stuck her middle finger up at him. “Coke suit you as a mixer?” she asked, changing the subject completely. Yes she looked like shit, she felt like shit most of the time too, and Malcolm was being way too fucking nice. She didn’t like it, but then she didn’t much like being on her own night after night either, especially not nowadays when all she thought about late at night was what she was going to do.

“Coke’s fine,” he agreed. “You mean the soft drink, right?”

“You think I have money for drugs?” she asked. “I fucking wish.”

“I’d offer to score for you, but I have no idea how to even fucking do that in this day and age,” he told her.

“You would too, wouldn’t you?” she laughed.

“Course, every little helps, right?”

“Not sure that’s quite what Tesco had in mind,” she said as she poured their drinks and carried them through to the living room.

“ You know he’s got a file on you?” Malcolm said, looking down at Grey as she sat a little too close next to him. 

“Oh I bet he has.” She sat up a little. topping up her drink. “He’s given it you, hasn’t he?”

“He thought I should know what I was dealing with.”

“What?” she repeated, elbowing him in the side.

“Who, sorry. _Who_ , I was dealing with.”

“Have you read it then?” she asked, pulling a face. He already knew she was willing to kill people, if he’d read the file as well, well she really couldn’t work out why he was even here,

“Nah, I just looked at the pictures. Not the easiest wank I’ve ever had, ‘specially those ones where you’re all hairy.”

She tried very hard not to smile at that. “Claws and teeth don’t do it for you then?” she asked.

“Sorry, darling,” he said with a shrug. “There were photos of you...behind bars,” he said more carefully after a few moments.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“I can see why you hate the cunt.”

“He kept us locked in separate cages for a month once,” she said, curling in on herself. “It could’ve been worse. I mean the cage was pretty big. There was a bed in it, and they let me out to...y’know piss and stuff. They put him two cages away, on the same side, so I couldn’t even see him, and we couldn’t talk cos there were fucking men in grey suits everywhere.”

“And after a month?”

Grey smiled slowly. “Some of the people at DoDD really aren’t that smart. They are horny though.”

“Go on.”

“Flashed one of them my tits. promised him a handjob, when he got near enough I punched him in the nose, nicked his keys and got everyone out of there.”

“Everyone?”

“Well I wasn’t just gonna let me and Lex out. Didn’t seem fair, y’know? Not everyone wanted out. but their choice, right? That was when I gave Rook that limp you mentioned. He was coming as we were going. He left us alone for a while after that, but he managed to take us, then me in every so often, just so we wouldn’t forget he was always watching, that we were never really safe from him.”

“So what the fuck happened? How come he leaves you alone now?”

“Well the last time he brought me in I almost killed one of his men trying to get out. It was close to the full moon. I’m not sure if it was really me or not, but then I think about him now, what I’d do to him and I think maybe it was all me.” She turned to look at him. “Maybe he’s right,” she said. “Maybe I am a monster, but the wolf’s got nothing to do with it. Like I said humans are just as bad as the supernatural when it comes to evil. Least I’ve hurt people for a reason, least I’m willing to _kill_ for a reason. I Googled it, you know. I was drunk and curious and I wanted to know what I’d be.”

“You Googled what?” he asked.

“The definition of terrorism. I wanted to know if I was gonna be a mass murderer or a terrorist.”

When Malcolm didn’t speak she carried on anyway. “I’m gonna be a terrorist,” she informed him, like it was nothing. It was the only way she could deal with it, like it wasn’t real, like it wasn’t fucking happening. “It’s to further a political cause, so I’ll be a terrorist. I’m sure they’re spin it another way though, cos y’know I don’t exactly fit the fucking profile, but I am. I will be.”

“Grey,” he said. He was drunk. They were both drunk, and talking about things that were too real But he hated this. Okay maybe she was a monster, but _fuck_ that wasn’t all she was.

“You shouldn’t be here. I’m glad you are but… _fuck_. I’m better off on my own. Just tell Rook I’ll do it, go back to London, job done.”

“Sorry darling, but I’m not leaving you,” he told her. “You want to know why I’m here? Cos I’ve got fuck all else to do. And because...because I worry, about you. I know you can look after yourself. I know you don’t fucking _need_ me but I don’t like the idea of you being alone through all this, okay? I don’t like the idea of you being alone like this full stop.”

“It’s better that way though,” she said, her body still leaning against his. “Go back to your hotel, Malcolm. Go back to London. I don’t need your help. I don’t need you making me talk about things. Think about it all.”

Malcolm stood up, looking down at her, all wrapped up in her own arms. She looked like a frightened child, but she was too stubborn to admit to wanting help or even comfort and he wasn’t about to argue, push his company on her. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go back to the hotel, but I’m not going back to London. Not yet. You’ve still got my number right?”

She nodded.

“Well if you change your mind.” If she stopped being so fucking stubborn, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath on that one.

 

Malcolm had given her a week, He hadn’t been in touch with her and she hadn’t been in touch with him, but he refused to give up, it just wasn’t his style but after seven days he was there again, on her doorstep, his pockets filled with stolen hotel pastries. When she opened the door he noticed the boxes behind her.

“Moving out?” he asked.

“Well I couldn’t see any reason to stay, once this is all over I won’t be coming back, will I? I gave the landlord my notice. Rook’s got some guys coming, said he’d keep my stuff in storage for me, wasn’t that nice of him?”

“So when are you leaving?” 

“Not for a couple of weeks at least. I just know how fucking useless I am so I started packing everything early. I own a lot of shit, it was easier to pack it than sort it. Rook’s paying so fuck it, right?”

“Were you planning on mentioning it at all?” he asked as he stepped inside.

Grey smirked. “I knew you’d be back,” she said. “So no, not exactly. Don’t worry though, Malcolm. I wasn’t gonna disappear on you. How could I? You work for Rook, all you’d’ve had to do was ask him where I was.”

“You know you’re a proper fucking cunt?” he asked as he went into the kitchen.

“Yeah,” she said. “Careful though, I might start thinking you give a shit.”

“And what’d make you think that, darling?” he asked as she stepped into the room after him.

“Oh I dunno, the vodka, the food, you rubbing fucking Deep Heat on me.” She moved to the   
other side of the counter and looked at him curiously. “You’re better off without me,” she told him. “So no, I wasn’t gonna tell you if you weren’t gonna find out anyway.”

“So you’d’ve just left?”

Probably not, but she wasn’t about to say that. Like she’d said before he was better off without her, the next full moon was on its way, the sooner they cut their ties the better.

“Like I said it’s not like you wouldn’t’ve been able to find me.”

“You think fucking _Rook_ would’ve told me where you were? I’ve fucking done my job darling! He doesn’t even know I’m still here.”

Grey looked up at him. She liked Malcolm, more than she was comfortable with, because what was the point now? There couldn’t have been a worse time in her entire life to have met him. She really didn’t need any kind of reason not to do this. “You’re here,” she pointed out. “We’re arguing about fucking hypertheticals. Can we not?”

“Fine,” Malcolm conceded. “So...what’s the plan?”

“Some guys are gonna come and take the stuff I don’t really need, which is pretty much everything apart from my bottles of vodka, which you keep restocking anyway so…” she shrugged. “Then I’ll stay in London for a bit ready for…” she felt her stomach lurch. She couldn’t say the words. Ready for the full moon, for the murder.

Malcolm nodded, she didn’t have to say it, in fact he kind of hoped she never would again. “Think he’ll let me see you when you’re in London?” he asked.

Grey shrugged. “Depends on whether he thinks I think you’re a cunt or not.”

“Well most people do, so it’s a safe bet.”

“Then he’ll probably keep you on guard duty, y’know since I haven’t tried to maim you yet.”

“Yet,” Malcolm repeated.

“ _Yet_ ,” she agreed.


	8. Just Wants Something Nice

“Is he scared I’ll make a run for it?” Grey asked, turning away from the window in the hotel room to look at Malcolm. He looked as worried as she felt. What the fuck did they think they were doing? How the hell had they got caught up in this? “I won’t. You can leave, you know. It’s fine.”

“And where am I gonna go, darling?” he asked. “What am I gonna do knowing you’re here, alone. Your last night before-” he stopped and shook his head, standing and heading for the mini bar. It was almost funny. The Department of Domestic Defence was in the throes of its death rattle but it still had money for expensive five star hotels to put up the condemned woman. Still it was a case of using it or losing it. They could probably have asked for much more considering what she was doing for them..

“Before I turn into an animal and kill a bunch of tories?” She moved over to him, crouching beside him to peer into the little fridge and empty it of its contents. “It’s funny, y’know I always thought killing tories would be a perfectly noble and righteous thing to do.”

“Aye, I know what you mean. When it’s all in theory it’s great fun, isn’t it? Imagining all the things you’d do to the fuckers as payback for what they’ve done to our country. But in reality…”

“I won’t see you again after tomorrow night,” she said, a feeble attempt to sort of change the subject, though everything came back to this. To what she was going to do. To the DoDD. God she hated Lex for what he’d done to her. If he wasn’t already dead she might have killed him herself for the mess he’d forced her into.

“Probably not,” he agreed. It was an idea that bothered him more than he cared to admit. He hadn’t had much of a purpose since he’d left politics, and god he’d been so bored and then there’d been that email from Rook, and he’d had a purpose again. _She’d_ given him a purpose, but it was more than that. There really was something about her. She really did have fire in her, true it seemed to be more of an ember than a roaring flame most of the time but it was there, lurking underneath all that pain and responsibility Rook had forced on her. And weirdly enough she didn’t seem to hate his company, even though he was the one that had found her, and taken her to Rook again.

“Can we go out?” she asked, opening and downing a tiny bottle of vodka in one fast, fluid movement before picking up another.

“Sorry?”

“It’s my last night in England. I want to go out. I want to get fucked up and dance. I don’t want to spend my last night in a fucking hotel room no matter how nice it is. Actually I think I’d be happier in a Travelodge. I’m not cut out for places like this. Did you see the way the girl on reception looked at me like I was a piece of shit.”

“I think she might’ve thought you were my bit on the side,” Malcolm said with a bit of a smile, as he rifled through the bottles now on the floor for a whiskey.

“You should be so lucky.”

“Aye. So where do you want to go? I mean I was under strict orders not to let you out of my sight, but Rook didn‘t say we couldn‘t go out, although y‘know even if he had fuck him.” She deserved a bit of fun before all this, didn’t she? And he was pretty sure she’d had precious little of that for years now.

“God I dunno, Kokos? Electric Ballroom, the Academy? I just need to be somewhere with shit loads of alcohol and loud music and no where near enough light.”

“I’ll make some calls. Get us a car, all that stuff. Do you want to go now?”

“I need to change.” She said leaping up. “Give me an hour.”

“I thought you were meant to be one of those low maintenance women,” he called after her as she pulled her suitcase into the bathroom.

Grey shook her head in response even though he couldn’t see her. “You have no fucking clue how long it takes _high_ maintenance women do get ready, do you?” she called back.

 

Malcolm was aware he was staring when Grey emerged half an hour later. He’d never seen her in a dress, let alone wearing make-up and boots with an actual heel to them. She looked, well she looked fucking dangerous actually, like she’d kick your head in if you looked at her in the wrong way, but there was something oddly appealing about that.

“What?” she demanded.

“What?” Malcolm replied, turning away, looking at his reflection purely to give himself something to do other than look at her.

“What? You were looking at me really weirdly.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Grey,”

“Yeah right. What it is? Don’t want to be seen out with me?”

“No, Grey, that’s really not what it is. It was just a bit…unexpected. You scrub up pretty well, don’t you?”

“Pretty sure that’s offensive, Malcolm.”

“Pretty sure I’m offensive, darling, or did you not know? Anyway, whatever, are you ready? Only the car’s outside.”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” she said, grabbing her bag and striding past him, one hand on the door. “Oh yeah, and for the record you don’t scrub up too badly yourself.”

 

“I’ve changed my mind,” Grey said, finishing her drink. “Can we go back to the hotel?” There were too many people, too close and the music was too loud. She’d never been out this close to a full moon before and everything was just too much. She didn’t feel right, and she wasn’t sure whether she wanted a fuck or a fight, probably both.

“You okay, darling?” he asked, downing the last of his pint.

“Yeah I just…I just want to get out of here.”

“Come on then.” he said, leading the way out, barging people out of the way as he pulled her out of the exit, into the cold night air.

“Better?”

Grey took a deep breath, trying to calm down. It had reeked in the nightclub - lust and sweat and alcohol and too many different types of perfume. It had been dizzying and stifling, even out here it didn’t exactly smell fresh but at least she wasn’t as enclosed, at least she could feel the breeze on her skin.

“Sorry,” she said, already walking down the street to search for a taxi.

“You think I wanted to be in there. darling?” he asked, glancing at her like she was crazy. “I fucking hated it, all those fucking people shoving each other to get served? All those fucking _children_ looking at me like I was someone’s dad, or some fucking old pervert deluded enough to think someone might actually get pissed enough to come home with me? I’m way too old and pissed off for nightclubs. I’m glad you wanted to get out of there. I was about ready to fucking glass myself.”

“So why did you come if you hated it that, much? Jesus, you didn’t even _complain!_ ”

Malcolm shrugged. “You wanted to go out, so I took you out. I’m not that much of a bastard, I didn’t want you to feel bad for dragging me into that fucking hellhole. So I sucked it up, like a decent human being.”

“ _Like_ a decent human being.”

“Aye, I’m pretty good at pretending sometimes. Anyway do you want to go back to the hotel or somewhere else? Just please not another fucking club.”

Of course she didn’t want to go back to the hotel. She wanted to run away, hide, or possibly just walk about all night until it was morning. She didn’t want to waste her last night sleeping.

“Grey?”

“I dunno, yeah, yeah I suppose so.”

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” he asked. “Say the word, Grey and we’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” she replied. “Can we go and jump off Thames Bridge?”

“The amount of shit they pump in there we’d probably float.”

“I don’t know where I want to go,” she admitted, turning to face him. “I just…there’s too many people, everywhere.”

“You want to be alone? I can see if there’s another room at the hotel, or go home or-”

“No,” she said, interrupting him before he could make any more suggestions. She didn’t know where she wanted to be but she knew he had to be there or she’d go mad. “Yeah, let’s go back to the hotel. Keep drinking there.”

“Anything you want,” he said, chasing down a taxi as it sped past them.

“What was that?” she asked as she joined him by the taxi, Malcolm standing there holding the door open for her as if nothing had just happened

“What?”

“That…I dunno I want to say running but I’m not sure that was what it was.”

“Fuck you, darling. Do you want to get out of here, or not?”

“Yeah, yeah okay.”

“Then shut your fucking mouth and be grateful I’ve got us a fucking cab, yeah?”

The cab ride was pretty much silent, Grey’s head too much of a mess to talk much, and Malcolm knowing better than to try and break the silence by asking questions or anything like that. They sat at opposite ends of the cab, her looking out the window the whole time and him looking at her, wishing more than anything he knew what the fuck to say or do to make this easier.

The moment they were back in the hotel room Grey grabbed all the bottles from the mini bar and carried them to the bed, climbing up onto it, already opening a bottle of vodka as he joined her.

“So what’s the plan now then?” he asked.

“Get so drunk I can’t think anymore?” she offered.

“A valid fucking plan if ever I heard one,” he agreed, reaching for a tiny bottle of whiskey between her legs.

Half an hour later they’d were surrounded by empty bottles and sitting way too close to each other. On the last one though Malcolm had insisted they need ice and glasses, to ‘make it last.”

“Can’t believe Rook ordered a fucking family room so one of us’d have to sleep on a fucking fold out bed,” she said, looking over at it in the corner.

“I’ll take it, you should...try and sleep,” Malcolm said.

She turned a little to face him better. “Yeah but you’re…”

“What? Old? Am I fucking _old_ , darling?” he asked. “You don’t have to remind me y’know not after the fucking club!”

“Not old, old _er_ ,” she clarified. “I mean I’m already gonna be fucking agony tomorrow, so what difference does it make to me? I can sleep on it.”

“Aye, if you fucking make it that far,” he pointed out. Although in fairness those tiny fucking bottle of alcohol were nothing like the measures he was used to, or her. He’d seen her pour a fucking drink, it would’ve taken at least three of those bottles to count as a measure to her.

“Or we could just share the bed,” she offered. “I trust you.”

“Aye, it’s you I’m more worried about,” he teased.

He probably had a point there, but she was trying to ignore all that, push it down, the timing was shit, but it was always the only time she had.

They lapsed back into silence again as Grey once again tried not to think. The alcohol hadn’t worked, far from it, but then she was pretty sure there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to stop her thinking tonight.

“I used to think the Labour party were a bunch of pricks,” she said, swirling her glass round, listening to clink of the ice cubes hitting each other.. “Now I’d do anything to have them back in power. Least they knew what was important. Least they didn’t only care about money and looking after themselves and their mates. God I fucking _hate_ this.” Her fingers tightened around the glass and she closed her eyes just to stop herself from crying in frustration. It was a sure sign she’d drunk too much, but she didn’t really know quite how to stop, and really why should she? Tonight of all nights.

Without really thinking about it Malcolm put his arm around her, slightly awkwardly but it felt like the right thing to do under the circumstances. He wished he knew what to say. He wished there was someone to shout at, something he could do to save her from this, but he knew there wasn’t. Unless you counted Rook, but the annoying thing about Rook was that he wasn’t afraid of him. Apparently Malcolm Tucker sort of paled in comparison to vampires and werewolves. He was sure there had to be another way. He knew better than most people that sometimes you had to do terrible things for the good of the people, the thing was some people were cut out for doing terrible things, for being ruthless, and Grey really didn’t seem like one of those people. She cared too much.

It was too much. He was close and she was drunk and everything was just such a fucking _mess_!

“Have you ever tried to not fancy someone?” She found herself asking. “Convince yourself that you can’t possibly because there’s this wrong with them, or that wrong with them? Or it’s too soon, and y’know it’s not like they’re super gorgeous or anything, or even a particularly great person. But you just _do_?”

Malcolm eyed her warily, eyes flicking between the glass in her hand and her face. That was quite a question.

“Generally speaking I want to stab everyone I meet repeatedly with a pen, so no, I can’t say it’s a problem I’ve ever really had. You seem to be forgetting - I’m a misogynist, darling. I hate everyone.”

“So why don’t you just let the world destroy itself then? You don’t hate everyone. I mean don’t get me wrong I get it. I hate everyone, y’know in a theoretical ‘why are people such arseholes, and why is this person being noisy and getting in my way’ way but...when it comes down to it it isn’t like that, is it? Christ Malcolm, you don’t get into politics if you don’t think you can do some good. Okay maybe some people do. But you don’t join the Labour party unless you think you can make things better for the people that actually _need_ help.”

Malcolm sighed, sipping his whiskey as he watched her. So this was it. Her last night and she was getting into the drunken deep and meaningfuls. That was fine. He didn’t need sleep anyway, he never had.

“Fine, I hate people as individuals. Better?” he offered, putting it so much more eloquently than Grey had managed.

“So why are you here with me now?” she asked.

“I can fuck off if you’d like?” he offered for probably the hundredth time since they’d met..

“No!” Grey said, the word coming out too quickly, too desperately. “Don’t you fucking _dare_!” If he left she’d be alone with her thoughts and if that happened she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to make it to the morning.

“You’re okay,” he admitted. “I mean you’re sort of terrifying at times, but…” he shrugged and took another drink of his whiskey. The thought of leaving her here on her own all night just felt wrong and he was sure if that was what she wanted she’d tell him in no uncertain terms.He liked her though, she was one of those notable exceptions, like Sam and….Jamie?

“Malcolm,” she said, turning so she was laying side on on the bed, looking at him in the dim light from the bathroom. “Don’t suppose you fancy a shag, do you?”

It was a good job he didn’t have a mouth full of whiskey or he’d probably have spat it all over himself. “Come again,” he said, sure he must’ve misheard her.

“Haven’t actually come a first time, but hey here’s hoping. I _said_ do you fancy a shag? Sorry, is that too forward? It’s just it’s gone midnight and in the morning my whole fucking life’s going to end, and I’m not gonna be me anymore and I’m never going to fucking _see_ you ever again and christ I don’t know, maybe I think all that looming bollocks’d feel just a tiny bit less shit if I had you naked in bed with me for a bit.” She considered what she’d just said and took another sip of her vodka. “Or anywhere else you might fancy being naked with me, I’m not that fussy on specifics.”

“Me specifically or any able bodied man?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer.

“You, specifically.” She sat up and took his drink from him, leaning across him to set it down on the side. “Okay let’s just forget the last few seconds, right?” She leant in and kissed him with surprising tenderness, a soft sound escaping her lips as she reached up to touch his cheek. It was strange how often she’d thought about doing that, late at night when they’d been in her flat drinking and talking about what an absolute sociopath Rook was. The number of times she’d almost thought ‘fuck it’ and kissed him just before he made his excuses and left, but she never had because what if he turned her down? Then what did she have? Nothing but the knowledge she’d agreed to become a murderer, and a bottle of vodka. It was different now though. Her last chance, and she wasn’t going into that building without having at least said something. She wasn’t going to become a true monster without ever knowing what Malcolm Tucker tasted like.

“Okay?” she asked, pulling back a little.

“How drunk are you, darling?” he enquired, his mind half on what he should do with his hands, the other on her and the conversation he was sure they needed to have before less clothing became involved.

“Not nearly enough.” She pulled back a little, a reluctant movement to say the least, but she’d slept with more enthusiastic men it had to be said. “If you don’t want to sleep with me you don’t have to, you know. Don’t let all my bull shit make you feel like you owe me or something. I just thought it might be nice, No that’s not the right word. I thought it might be really fucking good actually, for both of us. I mean I don’t know about you but I’m pretty good in bed, and even if you’re not I have fuck all problem doing all the work and making sure we both come.”

Malcolm couldn’t help but smile. “You romantic bitch.”

“Do you want to have sex with me or not, Malcolm?” she asked again, “Only if not I’ve got a vibrator in my bag, but you might want to go down to the bar for a bit while I use it. Unless you _want_ to hear me coming through a bathroom door.”

Jesus, why was that idea so appealing? Not that anything she was saying was exactly _unappealing_ , actually there was little about her in general that was unappealing now he was in a position to really think about her in that way, which apparently he was. “Think I’d rather be in the same room,” he admitted, voice cracking slightly.

“Oh yeah?” she smiled, reaching for the top button of his shirt, her fingers tracing over, but not actually undoing, it. “Would this be with your help or would you just be watching?”

It had been a while since Malcolm had got an erection purely from someone’s words but he could feel himself growing harder as she spoke. “Don’t think I’d object too much to either scenario,” he admitted, wondering if she’d noticed the bulge in his jeans yet. Because she would sooner or later. And he doubted she was the type of woman that would just ignore it, especially under the circumstances.

“I want you to make me come,” she said, finally undoing one button, then the next, working her way down as she spoke. “you can watch me first if you like, I can show you _exactly_ what to do, but I want you. I want you and those beautiful, elegant, expressive fingers of yours.” She leant in and kissed her way from his neck to his shoulder, as she pushed his shirt off his body. This close she could smell the whiskey on his breath, a hint of aftershave. She just wanted to stop her mind for a while, breathe him in, block out the world with the sensations of Malcolm fucking Tucker. Maybe that was where she’d been going wrong most of her life. It wasn’t vodka she needed to drown everything out, it was this. Him.

“You’re not fucking with me, are you?” he asked, as if he’d only just worked out she really wasn’t taking the piss. Because she was gorgeous and young, and passionate and christ she did not deserve any of this shit, and she certainly deserved better than him on her last night before she did what she had to do.

“Does it feel like I’m fucking with you?” she asked, shifting so she was in his lap, pressing slightly against his erection, He could feel the warmth between her legs even through three layers of fabric causing him to grow harder still.

“No, darling, it doesn’t,” he admitted, sitting up straighter, as he reached for the zipper at the back of her dress, his free hand moving to explore the expanse of bare flesh that was her leg. “You’re absolutely sure about this?”

Again she pressed closer, a slow torturous movement against the length of his ever hardening cock.

“I can put it in writing if you’d feel more comfortable.”

“Might be worth it just to see Rook’s face,” he said, slowly unzipping her dress, his fingers trailing after the zip down her spine, making her shiver, as he leant in, pressing his lips against her bare shoulder.

“I sort of want to tell him just to hear the lecture he’ll give you about how we’re all monsters and you _really_ shouldn’t be ‘getting so close’. Christ he’d be fucking livid if he could see us.”

“Why does that just make me want to fuck you even more, darling?”

“Because you’re a little bit cruel and Rook‘s kind of a cunt?” she offered, kissing him again, less tender this time, more hungry and desperate. 

“Aye, that’ll be it,” he said a little dazed when she pulled back, breaking the kiss and giving him the perfect opportunity to pull her dress up over her head.

He suddenly wished he’d taken a little more time, or that he’d mentally prepared himself a bit more for the sight in front of him because he was staring again and he just couldn’t help it. No amount of internal chastisement seemed to be having any effect. He couldn’t take his eyes off Grey’s semi-naked body. His world seemed to have narrowed down to the expanse of impossibly pale skin, flawless except for the ankh tattoo and the large scratch from her right shoulder disappearing under the fabric of her bra. Without thinking he reached out, about to touch the wound but stopping just before he made contact.

“You can touch it,” she said. “It doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t _hurt_ or anything.” Not physically at least.

“Are you sure, darling?”

“I’d rather you do it now than become fucking transfixed by it later.”

“That’s not what I’m transfixed by, Grey,” he admitted..

Grey ducked her head, her fringe falling down over her eye and hiding half her face. Malcolm Tucker could be incredibly sweet when he wanted to be, she wasn‘t entirely sure how much she liked it though. She knew where she was with the abuse, she knew how to handle it much better than this. “Smooth talking fucker. Just fucking doing it. Really it’s fine. I don’t mind and I don’t want you fucking _pausing_ when you want to touch me. Consider this blanket permission to touch me, all of me, and, fuck it, lick me as well if you want. Just do _something_ before I go crazy.”

“What happened?” he asked, voice surprisingly gentle, as his fingertip ran very lightly over the well healed scar.

Grey closed her eyes and tried to remember how to breathe normally. A month she‘d waited for him to touch her and this was what his fingers were trailing over - the reminder of what she was and it occurred to her she should have been bothered by it. But really the exact opposite was true. This was probably the most intimate thing he could possibly do. It was something she normally hid, something she‘d certainly never told anyone the truth about. But here he was touching her like she was something delicate despite the fact he knew exactly what she was.

“Not tonight. I just…I can’t. Not tonight. I want to pretend I’m a normal woman and you’re a normal man and this whole thing’s just fucking _normal_ I don’t want to talk about any of that stuff. Okay?”

“Okay.” He looked up into her face and smiled sadly, suddenly aware of what an insensitive question that had been. “Not so sure we can manage the normal thing though, we’re still going to be us after all.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Aye,” he agreed, his fingers coming to a stop at the edge of her black cotton bra as he reached around with his free hand to unhook it, pushing it away slightly awkwardly. His fingers continued to follow the line of her scar, stopping just inside the darker flesh around her nipple. It didn’t make her any the less beautiful, any the less perfect, if anything it just drew attention to it. It made her body all the more unique.

He opened his mouth to make sure she was definitely sure about this, but managed to stop himself. She’d been perfectly clear, and she really didn’t seem like the type of woman that would just go along with things. Instead he leant closer, his lips replacing his fingers as he kissed his way up her body back to her face. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but couldn’t. All he really wanted to do was make her forget tomorrow. To give her something good before everything changed. With his lips on hers he wrapped his arms around her firmly and rolled them over so she was on her back as he pulled away to look at her, lying there beneath him in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. 

“Hope you don’t think I’ll be staying down here,” she said, propping herself up on one elbow as she ran a hand swiftly over his body, to the waistband of his jeans. “I’m more of a woman on top kind of girl.”

He wasn’t surprised, just like he wasn’t surprised she was wearing boxers. The only thing that had surprised him was the dress she’d been wearing and even that hadn’t been especially feminine really.. “Well look at you with all your fucking _rules_ and demands. I thought you’d given me full permission to do what I wanted?”

“I gave you full permission to touch or lick me. Which incidentally you’re not doing.” She pushed herself up properly, kneeling in front of him as she went to work on the fastening of his trousers. She was being difficult, even now she couldn’t just switch off. She couldn’t just make it easy. She just didn’t have it in her to be that woman. “I want you naked,” she said as she pushed at his jeans, giving him a hand as he removed them the rest of the way. “I want the heat of your body, and your fingers and your mouth. I want you on me, Malcolm Tucker, all fucking night..”

“You don’t ask for a lot do you, darling?” he chuckled, guiding her back down on to the bed with his body weight, hands moving over skin until they reached her boxers and yanked them down, unceremoniously casting them aside.

“Any more rules or are you going to trust me?” he growled, kneeling between her legs, not making any moves for now. Making her wait seemed like a good idea, though if he was completely honest he wasn’t entirely sure where to start.

“Don’t be gentle and don’t you fucking _dare_ come before me.”

Malcolm grinned wolfishly down at her, shuffling a little closer and running one hand up her inner leg. “Oh I don’t think that’ll be a problem and if all night’s what you want, all night’s what you’ll get.” Cos god knows she deserved it. It wouldn’t be that difficult, would it? He had moves, and skills, and an imagination that could probably make at least one porn star blush. Plus he was used to staying up all night. The fact he was fifty five years old hardly mattered, did it?

“You’re too far away.”

“So demanding,” he said, shaking his head as he moved in, propping himself up so he didn’t crush her. “Better?”

“Much. You’re gonna hate me soon though, aren’t you? Which is probably just as well considering.”

“No more talking,” he said kissing her in an effort to keep her quiet. She’d already said she didn’t want to talk about it and all he wanted to do was take her mind off it completely. She was clearly thinking far too much. She wasn’t relaxing. She was barely even in the moment. She was a control freak, just like him, but one of them was going to have to give that up before long and he doubted it was going to be him.

“Close your eyes,” he said close to her ear. It was an order, but a gentle one. He wasn’t about to chance things by being too dominant with her. She seemed like the type of woman that would rally against that, though admittedly that idea did appeal quite a lot now it occurred to him.

She did as she was told, laying back on the mattress and trying to clear her head. None of this was ideal. She wanted to sleep with him, she had done for a while actually it had just never felt like a good time and now the situation really couldn’t have been much worse, but it was the only chance she was going to get.

“Trust me,” he said, kissing her neck, biting and sucking lightly. “Trust me and I’ll make you come so fucking hard, so many times, darling.”

Grey bit her lip and fought the urge to open her eyes, instead she twisted her head closer to his voice, mouth open as she sought his lips.

Malcolm couldn’t help but feel smug in the face of her blindly seeking him out like that. If he’d been feeling more of a bastard he’d have moved his lips away, made her work for it, but he really couldn’t see the point, not when he really did want her kissing him, plus now really wasn‘t the time to be playing those kinds of games..

She moaned against his lips the moment they met, arm around his shoulder as she pulled him closer, kissing him hard and hungry as she pressed her body against his, her hips pressing against his, wanting rid of the fabric of his underwear, the solidness of him against her. 

Malcolm broke the kiss. “There are so many things I want to do to you, darling,” he murmured into her ear, as he took hold of her legs, spreading them beneath him. Firmly he ran his hand back up her leg, glad he wasn’t naked or it would have been far too easy to forego all of this and just fuck her. He really needed to remember to take this slowly for both their sakes.

His fingers stroked against the crook at the top of her thigh, one finger occasionally moving inwards, but never quite touching her. Every so often he looked up at her, making sure she was keeping her eyes closed, but also to see how she was reacting. Her desire was clear, a need close to discomfort that he really wanted to take advantage of. As long as she was focusing on him and his touches she couldn’t be thinking about anything else.

“You okay there, darling?”

“Fine,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“Not going too slow for you, am I? Only you said you wanted all night.”

“Bastard.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He said, his fingers still stroking her thigh.

“I don’t beg.”

That hadn’t even crossed his mind, but now she’d said it he had to wonder if she was lying. Why else would she mention it? It had clearly occurred to her, that he might wait so long she was going to have to _ask_ at the very least.

“This isn’t going to plan, is it, darling?” he asked, slightly amused by her very apparent frustration. 

“I don’t know,” she sighed. She’d never had any plans, because they never worked out. All she knew was if he didn’t touch her properly soon she was going to have to take matters into her own hands, literally. Though that idea wasn’t the worse she’d ever had. In fact it was one of the better ones now she thought about it, especially considering what he’d said about watching.

Slowly she ran her hand over her stomach and down between her legs, no idea if he was actually watching but fairly certain he was.

“Jesus.” he hissed.

That was a good sign.

“Feel free to give me a hand.”

It was too late to go slow now. To carry on teasing her, because there she was dealing with the frustration herself and that hadn’t been what he’d been aiming for, but now it was happening he really didn’t mind too much.

“You want me to find your vibrator for you, darling?”

“If you get off this fucking bed I will make you very fucking sorry,” she growled.

Malcolm smiled. He was sure he shouldn’t find her aggression and threats as appealing as he did. There was just something about her. She was so strong, she didn’t mince her words and she made it abundantly clear what she wanted. You really had to respect that. He paused for a moment, just watching her, the way she was touching herself before he reached down, the back of his hand brushing against hers. “How’s this then?” he asked as he gently moved her hand away, replacing it with his own as he slipped a slender finger into her, crooking it as he moved inside her.

“Perfect,” she breathed,

“Perfect?” he repeated, not entirely sure he believed her, but he carried on doing exactly what he was doing anyway, until he was given further instructions. 

“Harder.”

There it was.

“There’s something… _fuck_!”

She pressed her back further into the mattress, raising her hips, desperate for something more.

“Grey, darling?” he said leaning down and kissing her stomach. “Stop thinking, Stop telling me what to do.” Another kiss, lower his time. “How about you give me a go. How about you let go for just one fucking minute and let me take over, ‘ey?”

“I haven’t had sex in five fucking _years_ ,” she said, eyes open and staring up at the ceiling. “I haven’t had sex in five _fucking years_ , and I can’t fucking remember how to be with something that isn’t fucking battery operated!”

“Five years?” Malcolm repeated, moving away from that perfect, warm body of hers. Not that he could talk of course. He hadn’t had sex for about the same amount of time, because he’d been too busy trying to run a country and then trying to sort out his fucking party to get back into a position to run a country and _then_ well then he’d been a fifty odd year old disgraced former media strategist with some serious anger issues and that wasn’t exactly a catch, was it? People didn’t _want_ to jump into bed with people like him. Not normal people at least. But Grey, christ Grey wasn’t fucking _normal_ , was she? She was something amazing, gorgeous and clever and passionate, and fucking frightening. even taking the werewolf thing into account he was sure men should’ve been queuing up to be told _exactly_ what to do to her in bed.

“You’re the first man I’ve met since Lex that I’ve thought might actually be worth fucking.”

“Steady with the proclamations of love there.”

Grey shot him a look that suggested he might like to shut the fuck up now.

“Okay. Right. Well here’s the thing. I don’t have fucking vibrating bunny ears on my cock, and I probably can’t go for fucking three hours, or make you come in under a minute or any of that shit you get from a fucking rampant rabbit. And you can’t press a fucking button on the back of my head to make me fucking vary speed or intensity, and I actually have a mind of my own, not that you’d fucking know it at the moment, because I’ll be honest now, Grey. If you tell me exactly what I can do to stop you thinking and make you come so hard you can’t remember my fucking _name_ , I’ll do it, darling. And I’ll fucking _enjoy_ doing it too. But I don’t think it works that way. I think if you don’t stop thinking about how much you want an orgasm and start thinking about…christ I don’t know, fucking _anything_ else maybe it’ll happen. Or maybe it won’t. In which case I’ll fetch you your vibrator and I’ll fucking hold your hand, or suck your nipple or bite your neck or do whatever else you fucking want to make this whole thing a bit less fucking _battery_ driven and a bit more human, okay?”

“Pretty sure you should be storming out and calling me fucking mental about now,” she said, sitting up, wrapping one leg around his waist, just in case her behaviour had made him think she might not want him here more than anything else in the world.

“Aye well I’m almost naked and I’ve still got a raging hard-on so…”

“I don’t care about you making me come,” she said. The realisation had suddenly dawned on her. It really didn’t matter. Yeah it would be nice, but that wasn’t what this was about. He wasn’t a means to an end. He was the end itself. Him. Malcolm Tucker. She just wanted him.

“No? You could’ve fooled me.”

“No,” she confirmed, her other leg joining the first as she pulled herself closer and up, her arms winding around his neck as she positioned herself in his lap. “Pretty keen on making you come though.” Shifting a little lower in his lap she reached down and started to unbutton his boxers. The backs of her fingers brushing against the hard, hot flesh of his erection. A small, quiet sound of wonder escaped her lips and Malcolm smiled again.

“Don’t get smug.”

“I’m saying nothing, darling.” He wasn’t that stupid, but he couldn’t deny how nice it was - her reaction to touching him, like he was something special. Something she’d been waiting for.

Biting her lip to try and keep any more involuntary noises to herself she took him in her hand, releasing him and stroking him slowly. It had been such a long time since she’d felt someone in her hand like his. She’d forgotten how soft it was, how smooth and delicate.

“Everything okay there, darling? Not too disappointing, am I? I mean if I’d known this was going to happen and you were more used to plastic I’d’ve painted the thing purple, just to make you a bit more comfortable like.”

There was nothing she could say that wasn’t going to make her sound completely pathetic, so she wasn’t even going to try. “Funny,” she said. “Now be a love and help me get these off, will you?”

“Now then, darling, where were we?” he asked, as she tossed his underwear in the same direction as her own had gone. “Or where do you _want_ to be?”

“Here’s good,” she said, settling back down into his lap, feeling the heat of him against her and pressing closer.

“Aye, here’s pretty fucking brilliant, if you ask me.” Slowly he began to kiss her neck, one hand resting at the base of her spine while the other moved between them, over her body, his thumb brushing her nipples while his kisses moved down to take full advantage of them.

“Fuck,” she hissed, as his mouth closed round one, tongue darting rapidly over it before he gently bit down. Her hips bucked forwards, eliciting a moan muffled by her skin.

“This is probably a really, really bad time to ask,” he said, tongue swirling over her nipple as he spoke. “But have you actually got any condoms?” Christ he hoped so or this was going to be one of the most disappointing nights of his life.

“I can’t get pregnant,” she said, her tone distracted. “It’s fine. Don’t give it another thought.”

He was sure he should push matters a little more, but with the heat and weight of her on top of him it was difficult to care about whether he should be having unprotected sex with a woman he’d known a little over a month and if she should be doing the same with him.

“You positive, darling?” he asked, his hand already trailing down her stomach, between her legs and god she was so hot, so wet. He slid two fingers inside her before he even had chance to think about how this might be considered pretty fucking encouraging behaviour.

“Yeah.” She nodded, not really trusting her voice, as she leant away from him, mirroring his movements and taking him back into her hand, moving up and down slowly, as she pressed into those wonderful fingers.

Watching her face, completely open, relaxed and content for the first time since they’d met Malcolm brushed his thumb over her clit, and tried to memorise the way her nose wrinkled and her lips twitched.

“That’s it, darling,” he whispered, fingers splayed out against her back as he thrust into her more forcefully and, touched her more firmly. She really was achingly beautiful like that. He could see her whole body, the way she was leaning back, her whole wonderful body presented to him.

Again his lips latched onto her nipple, sucking and biting harder than before, her heart racing close to his ear as he fucked her with his fingers. It didn’t matter what she’d said about him not having to make her come. He wanted to see it. He wanted to know what she’d sound like and look like, and he didn’t want to be too distracted by his own orgasm to be able to pay real attention.

“Fuck,” she hissed again, more urgently this time as her hand faltered around him, and she clenched down and relaxed again round his fingers.

Malcolm grinned against her breast. It didn’t matter if you hadn’t done something for five years, there were certain tell tale signs you never forgot and if the way Grey was breathing, the way her voice had become breathless and desperate wasn’t enough of a clue her muscles pulsing around his fingers were a dead giveaway.

Carefully he moved his hand from her back to her breast tweaking her other nipple roughly as he removed his mouth with a rather wet sound, repositioning it next to her ear. “Come on now, Grey, let me see you. Let me watch you coming.”

“Mal, Mal.” She couldn’t even form the last part of his name. Even ‘Malc’ was too much effort now, as he continued his whispered encouragements, just in case the way he was rubbing her clit and pressing roughly and repeatedly against her g-spot wasn’t quite enough. “Yeah, please, watch. _Fuck_!” 

With her head tossed back and her face contorted with pleasure Malcolm though he might actually come himself purely from watching her, chest heaving as his eyes swept over the entire view before him. She was flushed and shaking, and he was sure he’d never seen anything quite so perfect.

The build up finally reached its peak with an animalistic keening, her muscles tightening so much between her legs he could barely move his fingers, but that didn’t stop him trying. Even while she came with that cry he carried on, never slowing down, never changing his pace.

“Malc. _please_!”

“What? You want more, darling? Or do you want me to stop? Because if you want me to stop you’d better say those exact words. Don’t want any miscommunication now, do we?”

Grey couldn’t catch her breath. She had no chance of forming complete sentences, not while he was doing this. Jesus it was typical - tell a man you didn’t care if he made you come and suddenly he’d be intent on providing you with multiples. She couldn’t stop. There were lights behind her eyes, and she wasn’t even aware of the movement of Malcolm’s fingers anymore, somehow it had just come together in this sensation that was threatening to make her pass out. Blindly she found his hand between her legs and encircled his wrist with her hands, pulling it away in the absence of words as she collapsed, panting against his shoulder. She felt like she was having a heart attack, and it didn’t seem like the orgasm had actually stopped, just that it was lurking there, under the surface, occasionally making her shudder again in the aftermath.

Malcolm was certain he’d never been harder in his life. He desperately wanted to push her back onto the bed and fuck her like his life depended on it. To make her come again, and again, and again. But he could feel how hard her heart was pounding against his own chest. He could hear her gasping for air and clinging to his body, even as she shook in the comedown of her climax.

“Grey?” He waited a moment or two for a reply then spoke again. “Grey, darling?”

Finally she looked up, her hair a mess, her cheeks flushed and her eyes slightly dazed. She opened her mouth to speak then shook her head. She needed more time before she could manage words.

“You okay?” he asked, trying not to sound or look smug, something he failed at on both counts.

Grey didn’t move for a second, trying to work out how to respond. In all honesty she had no idea if she was okay or not. She was sure she was going to be - she turned into a fucking werewolf once a month, a couple of intense orgasms weren’t going to kill her, were they?

“Bastard.”

“Need a minute or two to recover? Fair enough, I don’t suppose everyone can have my stamina.”

“Bastard,” she repeated, still holding onto him, still firmly in his lap.

“You fucking love it.”

She tried to hit him on the shoulder but it felt more like being batted by a sleepy kitten. “Bastard,” she said again.


	9. Would Just Like To Run Away

"Would Just Like to Run Away">Grey woke up with her head on Malcolm’s chest. For a second she could ignore what day it was and just focus on the warmth of his body and his heart beating soothingly in her ear. She just wanted to stay like this, curled up in bed with him. She didn’t want to move, she didn’t even want to open her eyes, because maybe if they stayed close time wouldn’t pass and she wouldn’t have to go into that building and wait for the full moon to rise.

Malcolm’s arm tightened protectively around her. He’d been awake for at least an hour now. Despite it being months since he’d resigned from his job his body still seemed to think he only needed four hours sleep regardless of the situation. He hadn’t moved a muscle. Just watched her curled up on top of him peaceful and asleep. He’d never seen anyone look so innocent.

She curled in closer, her arm over his shoulder holding onto him, betraying the fact she was awake. She needed to move, it was too late now. She was awake and knew what was going to happen, she couldn’t just stay here in bed with Malcolm, no matter how much she wanted to.

“What time is it?” she murmured.

Malcolm shifted to grab his watch from the side, squinting to read the time. “Half nine. Do you want some breakfast?”

“Not really hungry.”

“No? I thought you’d be bloody starving after last night. I could eat a scabby horse personally.”

Finally she opened her eyes and sat up, looking down at him, his hair flattened on one side. It was all she could do not to burst into tears or start screaming. This was all so unfair. “Better take advantage of room service then,” she said reaching over him for the menu.

“You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked as she handed it over. “Not like you to turn down free food.”

“I need a shower,” she said, ignoring the question and climbing out of bed. Normally she was starving the day of the full moon, like the wolf needed feeding as well, but today she just felt physically sick.

Malcolm stayed in bed as he listened to the water running not entirely sure what to do. Was she regretting last night now she was completely sober? 

“Everything okay, Grey?” he called from the other side of the bathroom door. “Can I come in?”

“It’s not locked.”

He hesitated for a second then stepped inside, taking in the silhouette of her naked body behind the shower curtain. Again he waited before stepping in after her, his arms coming round her body from behind, though he was half expecting her to pull away, when she leant back against him he relaxed a little.

“You okay, darling?” he asked again. “Thought maybe you were having second thoughts about last night, but I’m gonna assume not.”

Grey turned in his arms, brushing her finger over his lips. “Don’t be an idiot. Last night, this morning…no regrets. Actually I’m up for another round if you are.” 

Malcolm’s cock twitched against her stomach and he smirked. “Think you can take that as a yes.”

“Help me wash my hair?” she asked.

“Help you get clean so you can get dirty again?” he questioned. 

Grey smiled. He had a point, She had no idea why she was even in here. She didn’t _need_ a shower as far as she was concerned. What worry about hygiene when you going to be a fucking animal in a few hours?

“It’ll all be over with before you know it, then you can get away from all this to all that fucking sunshine and ex-cons.” Malcolm said as he moved his hands over her body. “Hey, maybe I’ll come visit, I’m sure I’d look fucking great in one those cork hats.”

“I’m from Manchester, I’ll burn to a crisp. Anyway…” she trailed off and shook her head.

“Anyway what?”

“You really think they’re sending me to Australia, Malcolm? You really think Rook would let a dangerous monster like me just leave the country and go and live my own life where he can’t keep an eye on me? You think he trusts me not to say anything about what I did, what he made me do?”

“So what do you think’s going to happen?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“For someone so smart and cynical I can’t believe you haven’t worked this out, You really want me to say?” she asked, standing straighter. “He’s going to kill me, Malcolm. I’m not coming out of this. This is it. And I‘ll tell you a secret. I‘m fucking terrified. I mean really fucking scared. But hey on the plus side at least I won‘t have to live the rest of my life knowing I‘m a fucking terrorist!”

“Grey…” He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know where to start. 

“It’s fine. I’m dead either way.” She was glad they were in the shower though, that the water on her face was hiding the tears running down her face.

He pulled her against him instantly, arms holding onto her a little too tightly in lieu of words. 

“Take me back to bed, until it’s time? Can you please just fucking...fuck me so I can’t think about any of this. _Please_!”

“Anything you want, darling.”

 

Grey felt sick to her stomach, the day had passed by way too quickly, wrapped up in Malcolm’s limbs as they’d fucked. And that was what they’d done. _Fucked_ like animals. Because that was what she very nearly was now. The wolf was there, lurking. and it had been while she’d rode him, while she’d dug her fingers and nails into his back. She’d made him bleed, made him _scream_ and then she’d kissed it better, tasted his blood on her lips and it had make her _hungry_ and horny. All she wanted was to stay here, all teeth and claws and sex. Malcolm didn’t seem to mind any of it, not even the vivid red love bites she’d left on his neck, surrounded by teeth marks as she’d almost taken a chunk out of him.

She could smell him on her - his sweat and come, his aftershave and his blood. Maybe after all that fucking she should have showered again, but what was the point? The smell of him was somehow comforting, something to hold onto when the time came, when she was alone. She needed someone to do this for, and while she knew Malcolm would never want to be that he was all she had so it would have to be for him. Not that she’d tell him, he didn’t need the guilt. The sooner he was away from all of this the better.

They sat in the lobby, Grey silent but holding onto Malcolm’s hand. She was trying not to think, because the moment she did that was the moment she’d change her mind and try and run and she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t get away with it and this whole fucking _thing_ would happen to someone else. She wanted to cry. She wanted to fucking _sob_ against Malcolm’s chest until his shirt was see through. But all she could do was sit there and wait for the car to pick them up. _Them_. Fuck she was so thankful Malcolm was here with her, not talking, not trying to reassure her, letting her sit there and hold his hand a bit too tightly to make sure she wouldn’t just run off.

Every single car that pulled up to the hotel made her stomach lurch. Sitting here, _waiting_ with nothing to think about apart from what was going to happen was only making it worse. Now she just wanted to get it done, get it out of the way. After that she wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore, because she’d be dead and right now she was almost looking forward to that.

The car that pulled up was nothing special, but the man that got out of the driving seat was wearing a grey suit and approached the hotel with the kind of caution Grey had seen from Rook’s men a few times over the years.

“He still thinks I’m gonna run,” she said with an incredulous laugh.

“Not too late,” Malcolm said quietly, squeezing her hand. “Kind of gutted I’ve not had the chance to see you in action.”

“If you’re very lucky I’ll try and take a couple down before it happens,” she said, leaning in to kiss him. “Just for you,” she said against his lips.

They were still kissing when the man in grey coughed pointedly. Grey stuck her middle finger up at him as she continued to kiss Malcolm, a bit rougher than at the start as she let go of her control. She was gonna be dead soon, so why not kiss him just the way she wanted to as long as he didn’t mind?

Finally, with a shared gasp for air Grey turned her head to look at the man that Rook had sent to collect her. She could take him easily. He was small and not especially well built, but she didn’t much feel like fighting, the wolf had got a taste for sex now, that was all it really seemed to care about.

“Jones,” he said, presumably introducing himself. “Rook said to inform you I have a taser.”

She smirked. “Well good for you,” she said. “Course it’d do fuck all if I decided to kill you,” she said, as she stood, still holding onto Malcolm’s hand. “Cos you’d have to reach for it, see? Which is _really_ fucking hard to do with broken neck.” Jones looked so scared Grey almost felt bad as she walked past him, smiling. “Relax. I’m not gonna kill you. I won’t even _maim_ you, okay?”

 

Jones had barely spoken since she’d said she could kill him if she wanted to, and really that was okay. She wanted a distraction more than anything, but Malcolm was in the back with her which was going someway to keeping her sort of calm. She was almost in his lap, one leg hooked over his. She wanted to go back to her earlier bravado. Wanted to be able to joke and laugh, or at the very least be _wildly_ inappropriate with him in the back of Jones’ car as he drove. But she couldn’t do any of those things. In fact she was pretty sure if she opened her mouth now she was going to throw up everywhere.

“Pull over,” she said quickly, as she pulled away from Malcolm, trying to breath slowly, to control herself.

“I don’t think so,” Jones replied. “Rook said you’d try and get away again, and that I wasn’t to listen to anything you said.”

“Pull over,” she said again. “Or you can spend your evening cleaning vom out of your carpet.”

The moment he stopped, Grey lept out, already retching. She hadn’t eaten in about twenty four hours. Surely she didn’t have anything in her stomach _to_ throw up? But apparently that didn’t matter as she bend over, gagging on the bile in her mouth as she spat it into the grass below her. She could see Jones’ shoes and turned her head, glancing at him as she dry heaved. If there was anything in her stomach she was gonna aim it at his shoes.

“Are you done?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice rough, “But hey if you wanna chance it?”

“Get back in the car.”

“Fine,” she said. “But if I am sick I’ll be aiming it right at you this time,”

“You want me to crash?” he asked.

Grey shrugged. “I’m already dead.”

Malcolm was already holding out a piece of chewing gum when Grey got back into the car, offering it to her before he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her back against him. He wanted to ask if she was okay, but what kind of a fucking stupid question was that? Of course she wasn’t okay! How could she be? So he settled for just holding onto her. 

For a while anyway.

“So,” he said, turning his head, so his mouth was close to her ear. “How much do you want to piss off Rook?”

“As much as I possibly can. Why?”

“Cos I’d be willing to let you blow me in front of him if that’d help you at all,” he offered.

“That, is a very sweet, _selfless_ offer,” she said. “But maybe something a bit more subtle?”

“Yeah, yeah okay,” he agreed. “Can’t blame a man for trying, though can you, darling?”

 

She could see them standing there in the distance, waiting for her - Rook and his men. Actually, no they looked bigger than his normal men, much bigger. He was expecting trouble then? Well at least he’d _finally_ learnt.

As the car pulled up outside the community centre Grey slipped her hand into Malcolm’s and squeezed it tightly. So this was it. She could still make a run for it, she reckoned, she could still change her mind and there wouldn’t be a fucking _thing_ Rook could do about it, even with his new body guards.

“What do you say we take this prick out and ride off into the sunset?” Malcolm whispered.

Grey laughed, squeezing his hand again. Taking the chewing gum out of her mouth and pressing it against the back of Jones’ headrest to kiss Malcolm just a little too tenderly.

“You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?” Malcolm asked when she pulled back.

Grey nodded as Jones’ got out and opened the door for her. Yeah she was, because it was better her than someone else, right?

Still gripping his hand Grey got out of the car, pulling Malcolm with her as they walked towards Rook, heads held high, challenging him to say something.

He eyed them both for a few moments as they approached, trying not to react but there was something, a quirk of the lip, a heating of his skin. Oh he was annoyed all right. 

Perfect!

“Ms White. Mr Tucker,” he said with a nod, glancing at his watch. “We have about an hour before everyone starts arriving, two before the moon rises. Obviously we want you in place before any of the guest get here so if you wouldn’t mind following me?”

Neither of them moved. 

Malcolm couldn’t quite believe how unaffected by any of this Rook seemed. The guy really was total fucking psychopath. The thing was Malcolm really had no idea what to do. He couldn’t shout Rook down, couldn’t threaten him, he had no fucking power anymore, he doubted he’d even be able to punch the cunt before his fucking lackey’s took him down. So all he could do was stand there, holding onto Grey’s hand so tightly he could feel the bones in her fingers.

“Just Ms White,” Rook said, trying not to sound impatient. 

“Can we have a minute?” she asked.

“You and I?”

“Me and Malcolm,” she said with a barely contained sneer. As if she’d ever want to talk to Rook alone!

He looked between them for another few moments, clearly unhappy with this turn of events. “ _FIne_.” he agreed, walking away from them, back to his flunkies. 

They were keeping an eye on them, Grey could see that. It made sense of course. She was a known flight risk after all, and she really did want to run. More than anything. She turned so she was in front of Malcolm, suddenly realising what a fucking bad idea this was - saying goodbye. She’d never done that before and she didn’t want to. She wasn’t good at this, and she doubted he would be either but...she was never going to see him again. She had to say _something_.

“Thanks for last night,” she said. “And this morning, and a bit of this afternoon.”

Malcolm chuckled. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“And y’know...thanks for the other stuff too, yeah?”

He shrugged. “Stolen pastries and the odd bottle of vodka. It was nothing.”

She had a lot more to say and of course that wasn’t what she was thanking him for and they both knew it, but _fuck_! It was clear neither of them could actually do this. Especially not here. Especially not fucking _sober_! So instead she flung herself at him, twisting her leg with his as she wrapped her arms round his shoulders, one hand in his hair and kissed him so roughly she could taste his blood on her tongue. She growled into it, her hand tugging at his hair and her body pressed against his. She knew they were watching and she didn’t care. If anything it only spurred her on.

“Sure you don’t want to blow me?” Malcolm asked breathlessly when she finally pulled back from his kiss, swiping his thumb over his lip and examining the blood there.

“No,” she admitted. “Not at all. Think I’d quite like the last thing I do before all this shit to be making you come.”

“Well you haven’t really done anything else today in fairness.” he pointed out.

Rook coughed, pointedly, behind them.

There were still so many things she wanted to say to him, but she knew she wouldn’t no matter how much time they had left together. It wasn’t worth it. Not now.

“You were a fucking great shag, Tucker,” she told him, giving him one last kiss before she forced herself to let go of him, to walk away.

“You protect him,” she hissed close to Rook’s ear as she passed. “ Or I’ll fucking find you one way or another. Remember that.”


	10. Knowingly Walks Into A Trap

The full moon was coming, Grey could feel it pulling at her body, making it vibrate as if she’d had five cups of coffee too many. She paced the store room like the caged animal she was. There were no windows in here for her to break and escape out of. The only exit was the door, and she knew there was someone behind it, just waiting to unlock it, to unleash her on the unsuspecting, but not entirely innocent people in the hall. As she paced she looked around her, there were trestle tables and metal chairs folded up lining two of the walls. The room smelt of jumble sales and damp. Closing her eyes she sniffed her skin. her sweat mixed with his. Panic swept through her like a sudden wave of nausea. What the fuck was she doing? It had been easy enough to agree before, in her own mind at least. But right now she couldn’t stop thinking about Malcolm. His skin was still under her nails, his come still inside her more than likely. But that wasn’t even the half of it. He’d got much, _much_ deeper than that. He was in her head, and other places she wasn’t willing to think about. Was he still out there? Was _anyone_ still out there or had Rook left the dirty work to whoever it was that on the other side of the door? She hoped he wasn’t. She never should have told him what she knew was going to happen to her, but the idea that Rook might make him watch it...

She growled, low in the back of her throat as her hand twitched. It was coming, her wolf. She closed her eyes and tried to will it away just like always. She wanted to get out of here, she needed to keep a clear head, and yet...she shook her head vigorously. This was the only way, but all she wanted was to get out, to go to Malcolm, to run away and never come back. Only it was too late for that as well. If she got out now there’d be no stopping her and if anything happened to Malcolm because of her. ..It was all because of her though. wasn’t it? Whether she was the one that hurt him or not. She didn’t trust Rook, not at all. Maybe he’d kill Malcolm as well, although actually perhaps then she’d get to see him again if there was something after this, there were ghosts after all, so maybe there was. Not heaven or hell of course, but something. maybe.

“ _Fuck_!” she hissed. Now she was hoping he _would_ die so. So what? So they could be dead together in some afterlife she didn’t even believe in?

Thankfully all rational thought was pulled from her mind as her back arched involuntarily and she collapsed to the floor, fumbling to pull off her t-shirt, boots and trousers as her hands trembled and her nails began in turn into claws. They didn’t matter, she’d never need them again, but it was habit.

There was no window, but she looked up to the ceiling as if she could see the moon anyway. Throwing her clothes to the side she got on all fours and began to scratch at the dirty floor beneath her as her bones began to crack and elongate. Howling in pain she looked to the door and stalked towards it, sniffing as her face distorted into something more lupin. Yes. There was someone out there, someone listening, someone _scared_ , as they should be.

Again she howled, the sound dissolving into a scream of pain as she felt her insides rip themselves apart and her arms and legs gave way, leaving her on the floor as her entire body shifted, changed, put itself together all wrong and she was the wolf.

And she was _angry_!

Once more she howled, picking herself up off the floor and throwing herself at the door. She heard a whimper, and then the door unlock and open.

Whoever it was that had been waiting had managed to get out, but there were others. _Plenty_ of others, she could smell their perfume and their aftershave, the alcohol they were being served. She stalked towards the scent, the sound of talking and heartbeats.

And then all she could hear were the screams as she lept.

“Are all the fire doors locked?” Rook asked when the man that had been on the inside ran out.

“Yes, Mr Rook,” he said panting and shaking.

“Give it five minutes. Then it’s time to set the fire. Once you’ve got the CCTV for the minister to look at, obviously.”

Before Rook had even finished his sentence two of his lackeys were behind Malcolm, each taking hold of him by the arm and shoulder so he couldn’t do anything.

“You bastard,” he hissed, struggling to get away even though he knew it was pointless. “You absolute fucking _cunt_. She’s still in there!”

“No Mr Tucker, only the monster Ms White becomes is in there. Really it’s a mercy. We’re putting her out of her misery.”

“Her misery? Do you actually know a fucking _thing_ about her, you patronising psychopath? She was right about you! She _knew_ you were going to fucking kill her! She knew and she still went in there, to save your sorry fucking bigoted government department, and a bunch of people who’d have hunted her down and killed her.”

“Yes well Ms White was always much smarter than she looked.”

“Her name’s Grey. Call her by her fucking _name_ , you fucking coward! Or is this what you have to do? So you can sleep at night? Refer to the people you lock up or fucking _destroy_ by their surnames or by fucking _numbers_ so you don‘t have to think about the fact they‘re actual fucking _people_ you‘re killing!”

“They are not people, Mr Tucker. They are monsters. How many times must I go through this?”

“She sacrificed herself for a bunch of people who were nothing but judgemental of her before she even _became_ a fucking werewolf and you’re calling _her_ a monster? There’s only one monster here, Rook and it sure as fuck isn’t Grey.”

“As you said she knew what she was doing. How do you know this isn’t _exactly_ what she wanted? How do you know that she didn’t _want_ to die? That she didn’t want to be free of her terrible curse.”

“Because I fucking _knew_ her, you fucking maniac! I talked to her and spent time with her, like _you_ told me to.””

“Did you? Only I could’ve sworn I warned you very strongly against that. You were to keep an eye on her and nothing more. She was to be treated as a potentially violent criminal, do you not remember?”

“Yeah well I’d like to see you remembering that when you’re shut up in a hotel room with a beautiful, passionate woman who knows she has to go against everything she believes in to save a world she hates, because she knows how terrible the other option is. I‘d like to see you spend actual _time_ with someone that brave and that unwilling to give up and not feel _something_.”

“Still, there was absolutely _no_ reason for you to engage in sexual intercourse with her,” he looked up at Malcolm, disgusted. “The woman’s an animal. She isn’t _human_.”

Malcolm struggled again out of nowhere and managed to get one arm free, punching Rook square in the nose and spitting in his face before he was pulled back again. “That’s for Grey. She was a million times better at being human than you could ever fucking hope to be.”

“Put him on a train,” Rook said turning away as he wiped at his face with a tissue. “Get rid of him.


	11. Really Isn't Meant To Be Here

The only thing that had stopped Malcolm from kicking and screaming all the way to the station was the knowledge that if he did he’d be made to look like the one in the wrong here. And so he’d gone quietly even as they’d put him on a train to Edinburgh and shoved a print out of details of a hotel in his pocket. He couldn’t quite believe what had just happened, couldn’t believe Grey had known but had still done it.

She was dead now. 

His jaw clenched at the thought. That bastard had killed her for doing what he’d asked and he wasn’t even sorry. He hadn’t even batted an eyelid when he’d given the order. For someone that talked so much about saving people’s lives he didn’t seem to care much about killing people for his own cause.

He couldn’t quite believe it was real. He could still feel her scratch marks on his back, could still hear her voice in his mind. Fuck. he could still see that shaky smile when he’d made her come. every time he closed his eyes. He kept his eyes closed now, as the train rattled on away from London. If he opened them he wasn’t convinced there wouldn’t be tears in his eyes. She was dead and no one would mourn her apart from him. She wouldn’t get a funeral. He didn’t even know if she had a family, but she must, mustn’t she? They wouldn’t know what had happened to her, not until Rook bothered to make up some story to tell them and Malcolm doubted he’d bother.

And now here he was, on his way to Edinburgh to keep him out of the way for a while, to stop him getting payback probably, because he wanted to, he wanted to tear Rook apart with his bare hands, but he’d probably be expecting that. No he’d bide his time. wait until Rook thought he was long gone, until he’d forgotten all about them, and he was sure he would. that none of this would linger in his mind any longer than any of the other terrible things he’d done. A few months maybe and then Malcolm would work something out, call a few people, make Rook _pay_ for what he’d done to Grey.

 

Grey woke up gasping for air.

She was alive.

She had no idea where she was, but she was alive.

And naked.

And bleeding.

Her stomach lurched violently as she coughed and began to vomit up chunks of flesh. rolling onto her side so she wouldn’t choke on it. Forcing herself to sit up she continued to throw up. Her vomit was red with blood and gore, and when she thought she’d finished she noticed something in the mess that looked like an eyeball and began the whole process again, clutching her stomach as she scrabbled away so she wouldn’t see it again.

Resting back against a tree a few feet away she began to cry. She was alive, and she was a murderer. She could still taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth and what she’d just seen, what she’d just thrown up... she retched again at the very thought. She wasn’t supposed to be alive, that had been part of the plan, the only reason she’d agreed to it because she’d known she wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences, whatever lies Rook had told her. Why would he ever have left her alive? It had been the perfect opportunity to get rid of her, hadn’t it?

And yes here she was.

For the first time since she’d woken up she glanced down at her body. It was covered in lots of cuts, some tiny, but some large and bleeding. For a moment Grey considered just staying where she was, letting the lose of blood and exposure take care of her, but she couldn’t. She had to keep going. She had nothing, but it seemed like the wolf had escaped, saved her life, jumped through a window by the looks of it. There hadn’t been a window in the storeroom, she remembered that much, but the rest of the hall had been full of windows, huge ones meant to let the light in so you didn’t waste electricity. Had Rook _seriously_ not thought about that? Not considered for one _fucking moment_ how easy it would be to break and leap out of a window, hell even as she usually was she doubted it would have been that difficult, but as the wolf...it would have been _easy_. “Fucking amateur,” she hissed, closing her eyes as she tried to work out what to do. First she needed clothes, then something to get the glass out of the wounds. The wolf would take care of them, heal her before anything could go too badly wrong.. She didn’t need medical attention. That was something at least.

 

Grey had stolen a dress from the first washing line she’d seen. It wasn’t really her style, but luckily it was black and floaty. It would hide the blood stains and not press against the wounds, and it was a fuck of a lot better than being naked.

Dressed but still bare foot Grey locked herself in a disabled toilet cubicle with a pair of tweezers she’d stolen from a chemist. It was clean, which was good, though Grey didn’t have to worry about infections as much anymore. She hadn’t got so much as a cold since Lex had scratched her. Facing the mirror in the cubicle Grey took off the dress and stood in front of it, biting her lip as she pulled out the shards of glass and dropped the in the bin. It hurt like hell, a burning pain that brought tears to her eyes, but what else could she do? Maybe eventually her body would just push them out, or maybe she’d just heal around the shards, which would be agony, _constant_ agony rather than the quick shock of it now.

Slipping her dress back on she washed her face quickly, attempting to look slightly more human than she felt. She still looked like shit, of course, her hair a mess and her feet bare. Getting money was going to be difficult. She had no idea if Rook had any clue she’d got away or not, but if he did he’d be keeping an eye out for her, watching for withdrawals from her bank account that kind of thing.

Begging and stealing it was then.

Fucking brilliant!

 

Malcolm was still in Edinburgh when his phone beeped for the first time. 

It had been two weeks, two fucking _weeks_ since Rook had told them to set the fire like it was nothing. He hadn’t heard a peep out of him, so he had no idea if Grey’s sacrifice had even counted for anything, and really he didn’t _want_ to know. What fucking difference did it make now? Grey was dead, and he hadn’t even _tried_ to keep it together. What was the fucking point?

_You still alive? G x_

It took him a few moments to register the sound of his mobile phone through the haze of whiskey and valium. Not that it seemed to be helping with anything, though in truth he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted it to do. Blot out the memories of the fire, help him sleep without nightmares, kill him? He wasn’t sure he cared much either way. Considering they’d supposedly won he really didn’t feel very good about it. When he read the message he was sure it was a sick joke and he threw the phone across the room with a moan.

_Please Malcolm if you’re alive for fuck’s sake reply or I’m going after Rook. G x_

Five minutes later he finally retrieved the phone. He still didn’t believe it was her. It had to be a trick by Rook, trying to smoke him out so he’d go and meet him and then that would be it - a bullet to the head, or perhaps something much more innocent looking. Something that looked like an accident or suicide. People would believe that he was sure, because really how much did he have to live for?

_Prove you’re her_

_Is this a very weird prelude to sexting? G x_

_Prove it_

_How? Anyway it doesn’t matter now. You’re alive. I just wanted to make sure. G x_

_It matters to me._

_The scar on my chest_

_DoDD have fucking PHOTOS of that. Try again_

_You traced it with your fingertips and then your tongue in the hotel room before we spent the whole night shagging?._

_Grey? Where are you? How did you get out? He thinks you’re dead._

_I can’t tell you. I just wanted to make sure he hadn’t done anything._

_Fucking tell me!_

_It’s better for you if you don’t know. I always knew I was never gonna see you again. I’d just hoped I might get to say goodbye properly._

_I don’t give a fuck about what’s better for me. Tell me where the fuck you are!_

_He’s probably watching you. You’re gonna get us both killed. G x_

_He doesn’t give a fuck about me anymore. If I say anything he’ll leak my medical records. Anything I say he’ll make look like the rantings of a mad man. Where are you, Grey?_

_Fine. But if he follows you and kills us both I’m gonna be really fucking pissed off with you. I’m in Glasgow. I like the accent. G x_

_I’m on my way._

_Please don’t._

_Too late darling._


End file.
